


Band

by Br0th3rMouse



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Scion (Tabletop RPG)
Genre: American Gods Inspired, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Fae & Fairies, Friendship, Gen, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Magic, Magical Realism, Modern Myth, Mythology References, Native American/First Nations Legends & Lore, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Return of the Gods, Spirits, Vigilantism, kami - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 100,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Br0th3rMouse/pseuds/Br0th3rMouse
Summary: By twist of Fate, the Gods actBy twist of Fate, a girl stays on the path of Heroism.By twist of Fate, a world bereft of hope will regain it.The stirrings of the Old World effect the New, paths have been altered, the Great Plan is dead, Legends are coming alive, faith comes back to the faithless, and Taylor Hebert meets some actual friends.Miracles are happening and the Earth will never be the same!A crossover with the Scion Tabletop RPG, a game about gods, humanity, and everything in between. A game about mythic deeds and the legends those deeds engender. A game of Gods and Monsters set in the modern day.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	1. Origin 1.1

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from SV

Walt

Friday, December 16th, 2010. Around 8pm

The Atlantic sea breeze is a much different cold then the winds of Wyoming, it carries salt and spray with it as opposed to the scent of pine. I am not sure if I like it or not yet to be honest. It’s only been three days since I was spirited away to this gods-forsaken pit in New Hampshire and already I’m already looking for reasons to despise it. My new home for the foreseeable future, the street I live on, the family I’ve neither met nor spoken to prior to these odd two months, or even the journey itself have all felt distant and left me strangely ambivalent. I was under the distinct impression that moving from one state to another would have been a much more jarring and traumatic experience, one with half cocked plans to return “home” or an attitude shift brought on by impotent rage and yet I am ultimately, ambivalent.

My new room was rather spartan accommodation; a bed, a dresser, an office chair with casters, and an old roll top desk with a small lamp plugged into the wall. Beyond that there were no posters, photographs, or other accouterments found in the average American boy’s room, I was thankful that my maternal grandparents deigned not to presume my interests and decorate the room for me. As per grandfather’s instructions I had packed light; a week’s worth of clothing, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a Louis L'Amour book I had only recently begun to read, all of which had been put in their proper places.

Grandma Saoirse had assured me that along with Grandpa Finn we would go shopping for clothes, some decor, and school supplies come the weekend, a prospect I would dread had it not been absolutely necessary. The most pressing of my concerns was this blasted window, my room being on the second floor and facing the east where the moonlight would shine in with greatest effect. I would need to get a good set of blackout curtains if I wanted proper rest, perhaps a cheap music player and comfortable headphones as well.

Not being in a particular mood to continue my reading with this blasted natural light coming in I have taken to observing the view; the next door neighbor’s home in profile. According to Grandpa Finn our neighbors were a widowed man and his daughter, the girl being about my age was emphasized with a knowing look from Grandma Saoirse. That look in her eyes did not set me at ease in any capacity to be frank, and Grandpa Finn merely continued that the man of that house was a hardworking man who was big in some union or other. For the past three days I observed their comings and goings out of utter boredom and a morbid curiosity at catching a glimpse at this girl next door. I did nothing to obscure my actions, I merely moved the office chair to sit at the windowsill and passively observed, I did not expect my evening observations to be anything more than studying the features of this old house.

Oh how I was proven wrong.

The window on the second story facing my position had been thrown open, and there I finally saw the Hebert girl. My initial observation; she was rather plain barring her dark hair and height and she was currently angry in some capacity with her eyes meeting mine, I could only assume that she was tiring to bore through my head with her vision alone.

“What is your problem!?” she shouted, she must have if I could hear her with my window still closed.

It would have been rude not to respond so I pulled up my window and leaned out, my arms resting on the windowsill

“What do you mean?”

She scoffed and gestured to my direction with her arms outstretched towards me

“You have been staring at my window for the past three days, just staring at it the whole time!”

“Actually I’ve been looking at your whole house, not just your window.” I pointed from one end to her house to the other. This did not make her any less irritated and the scowl on her face grew deeper

“Why?”

I shrugged, my eyes not leaving hers, eye contact is important according to Grandfather.

“I haven’t felt the urge to continue reading my book further than 20 pages a night, it’s the only book I have with me and its only two hundred some odd pages.”

The girl merely gave me a look of utter confusion “Seriously?”

“Yes” my explanation does not appear to set her at ease or satisfy her curiosity

“You have been staring at my house for the past three days because you’re bored and didn’t feel like reading more of your stupid book?”

It occurred to me that this may be seen as odd behavior in these parts, I had never had neighbors so close to me before nor did I ever socialize with other people around my age in earnest, it was only now that I was horribly out of my depth yet again. I did not turn my eyes away from hers while I wracked my brain looking for something to say. Never was much of a conversationalist.

“Yes” I finally replied, slowly and somewhat sheepishly, she crossed her arms and looked away, her long hair draping over one of her shoulders and muttering something I couldn't hear from the window.

“Did Emma put you up to this?” she asked in a volume I could hear

I tilt my head in confusion, looking back on the past three days to try and recall if I knew anybody by that name. Nobody came to mind.

“I do not know anybody by that name, miss.” I replied truthfully. “Barring my grandparents, I haven’t met anybody from around here and you are the longest conversation I’ve had with anyone not living with me.”

I adjusted my posture and gave her a smile “I’m Walt by the way, Walt Connolly”

The girl said nothing for a solid ten seconds, her eyes darting around her room and occasionally to me. She broke the silence, though not by much.

“Taylor…” I was fortunate there was no traffic down the street, I could barely hear her.

I nodded to her, had I been wearing my cattleman I would have tipped it to her “Pleasure to meet you, Taylor.”

I noticed a familiar pair of lights and engine sound coming down the road, it appeared that Mr Hebert was arriving home.

“I imagine that’d be your father coming down the road. I apologize for disturbing your evenings, I’ll not make a habit of it in future. Have a good night then.” I shut my window then, I’d rather not have her father catch me conversing with her from the window. I did not need to leave another bad first impression.

With that whole awkward mess out of the way, the only thing left for me to do tonight was to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow would bring fewer awkward conversations and this wouldn’t be the start of some minor feud between neighbors. I really did not need to make life for Saoirse and Finn more difficult then my presence no doubt has already made. Perhaps I’d ask if either of them knew of a suitable peace offering to give to this Taylor Hebert. Hopefull


	2. Origin 1.2

Taylor

Friday, December 16th, 2011.

The boy next door, Walt he said his name was, shut his window before I could question how he knew that. Well, hearing dad’s truck coming down the road quickly answered the question. He’s home on time tonight, wonder if he’ll make dinner tonight. More than likely not, leftovers and takeout are most likely. I hear the door open and Dad lumber into the living room, my cue to come down, anything would be better than lingering at my window. There’s nothing on the kitchen table, Dad’s snoring clues me in; he must have fell asleep the second he sat down.

I don’t really have an appetite and I’d rather not wake Dad up. So back upstairs I go, back to my room, and back to thinking about that downright bizarre conversation I just had. I know Dad is acquainted with the family that lives in the house next door, the McCullough family, I think that’s their name. Never seen any company over at their house, same two cars, whenever I look. I thought hard, he made no mention of when he got in, but I can safely assume that he got in the same day he started staring at my win-

The house. He said he was staring at the whole house, as much as I don’t believe that. Today’s Friday, that means Tuesday he must have got in, probably in the early morning or while I was at school. He looks about my age, but nobody new was in my classes. He’s got the rugged look that a lot of The Trio and their hangers on would gossip about and he had that accent. Oh how those girls would sigh and swoon over that accent!

Ugh!

What even is that accent?

Better question; who in their right mind would _willingly_ move to this hellhole? This is the kind of place people move away _from_ not move _to_. Still, he must be in a bad way if he has to move _here_ of all places. I should apologize for snapping at him, I really should. Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll apologize, and then with any luck he doesn’t end up going to Winslow, and barring the awkward social courtesy of “Hey neighbor” we’ll never interact with each other ever again.

Walt

Saturday, December 17th 2011, 1:20 PM

I thank any and all gods who would care to listen for the invention wool lined jackets, I thank my grandparents for shipping me to the east coast as opposed to some gods-forsaken hot and humid year round locale. My appearance catches the eyes of a few passersby, I imagine it’s rare in this part of the country and so far from anywhere rural for someone to be walking around with a black cattleman, aforementioned wool lined jacket, and honest-to-god cowboy boots with spurs that go jingle-jangle-jingle.

Don’t judge me, I only had so much time to pack and I didn’t quite have the time to find my damn steel-toes. If I’m going out looking like I just came off the set of some western I’m committing to the look. Grandpa Finn and Grandma Saoirse didn’t seem to mind when I came downstairs this morning in the getup, if anything they seemed delighted.

The morning routine in the McCullough house seemed to be as follows; Finn and Saoirse get up at the same time around 5am, they have their morning shower soon after. Once their morning grooming is done, Finn comes down to brew coffee around 5:30 while Saoirse is finishing up her shower. While coffee is brewing he gets started on breakfast, Finn has a list of meals written down on a calendar sticking to the fridge by a magnet by day and meal, on further inspection breakfast is usually some hearty affair fitting for a full family of four rather than just a husband and wife. Finn and Saoirse seem to be in relatively good health for people their age but I do not know when, where, or how they exercise. Maybe it’s good genes? Breakfast is served at 6am sharp just in time for Saoirse to head down with a large smile and a skip in her step, befitting a woman a few decades her junior rather than the kindly old woman she appeared to be. After food is plated and the table set, breakfast begins. In stark contrast to the morning meals held with Grandfather, Finn and Saoirse engage each other with loving and warm banter and attempt to include me into the conversation. Breakfast at the Connolly family ranch was always a cold and quiet procession, Grandfather didn’t believe in spoiling breakfast with conversation. I’ve done my best to oblige Grandpa Finn and Grandma Saoirse, but I have always had little to say and was never one for small talk. This morning’s conversation topic did not seem to follow the pattern the past two days held when Finn and Saoirse were sharing knowing glances before staring at me with mirth and mischief in their eyes. I waited a solid three minutes before breaking the silence, I really don’t enjoy doing that.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask with as much respect and as polite as I can manage. I’ve been told I have an issue with tone when I speak. Personally never understood that

Finn merely chuckled into his coffee as Saoirse got up and gave me a hug. Another change I am not used to. I stiffen a little at the physical contact but do nothing to get out of it, it’d be rude.

“Aw wee lamb…” she said with an Irish accent before resuming in that vague New England accent “Not even three days in town and already courting the girl next door…”

Finn put on a faux stern expression and pointed his coffee mug towards me “Now listen here lad, we will have no shenanigans in this house. No going off at all hours of the night trying to woo the fair maidens of Brockton Bay, y’hear?”

His grin returned as he took a sip of his coffee, cream and seven sugars, while Saoirse began patting my back. I sighed and slumped into my seat as I replied.

“I take it you heard me last night?”

Saoirse returned to her seat to the left side of the circular table. “Of course, dear. Walls aren’t that thick and the both of you were speaking rather loudly.”

I resisted the urge to slam my head into the nice table. “I don’t suppose either of you know a suitable peace offering to a teenage girl you have been unknowingly staring at her bedroom window this whole time?”

I immediately regretted my choice of words as my grandparents gave each other that damn look to each other, a look that seemed to say “This is something you will have to figure out on your own, kid”

If I could have slunk further into my chair without falling to the floor I would have. Luckily the conversation soon shifted to what we’d be doing today.

Which brings us back to the present, I already knew what was needed for the future semester and getting those supplies was quick. The most rugged backpack I could find, notebooks, binder, paper, and finally pens. I refuse to get pencils, they are suited only for drawing, not turning in work. Anybody man who says otherwise is a coward. Checkout was quick, which left ample time for my grandparents and I to head to a thrift store Saoirse said she swore by.

I took in the city streets as we drove. While the largest city I’d ever been too was Cheyenne back in Wyoming, this place was nothing like it beyond the architectural style a few buildings had. Cheyenne had it’s seedy areas, this whole cesspit seemed a seedy area. Even the “nice” part of town. I tuned out Grandma Saoirse’s explanation of where we were and what could be found, I had no intention of lingering anywhere. I may just try my hand at online shopping if it’ll keep me from wandering about this shit-hole. How the hell did people live like this? How the hell could people let a city fall apart then act as if there was nothing wrong? I doubt I’d ever get the answer to those questions, or at the very least satisfying ones. The car was slowing down, and Finn pulled us into a parking spot under a tree. I guess we’re here.

When I got out of the car and looked around I did not spot any thrift store, what I did see was a welcome surprise. Something I did not think I’d see in a city like this; a hand carved sign hanging off a rather sturdy looking awning “Wayland’s Western Wear and Leather-working” was carved into it.

Finn clapped his hand on my shoulder as he gestured to it “I figured you’d like it. Saoirse found it on her way home from the thrift store the other night, she had to make a detour after some road work was being done on that road.”

Grandma Saoirse went on ahead to hit the crossing signal, I looked to Grandpa Finn and gave my thanks. When we finally got into the store we were greeted by an old man manning the counter, he had a name-tag on that said “Wayland”. My guess is he’s the owner. Taking in the store, the racks were neatly organized, the counters clean, and the fluorescent bright making the store very visible. The whole shop seemed to welcome any and all who set foot within its walls.

The prices here were fair, and it seemed most of his revenue came from the leather-working and leather repair judging by the pricing chart on display behind the counter. Hefty pricing, too. He must be getting a lot of return customers if he’s still in business. Hell the man had everything I needed in this store; shirts, jeans, belts, and actual work boots, not just the kind I’d wear to a rodeo. I just may become a return customer myself.

I came out with two tall paper bags with enough clothes to last me for the foreseeable future, and two pairs of boots; both steel-toed, both suitable for hard work, though I would still have to purchase a pair of sneakers for physical education and possibly suitable gym shorts or sweats. Either way, my shortage of clothes was all but rectified, my school supplies were bought, and all that was left was to head home.

As we left the store, Finn stopped me and pointed at my face “You got something on your face their kiddo.”

I don’t feel anything. Wonder what he’s going on about, I walked a bit to the next-door shop’s window to check myself in its reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary, hair was still short and light brown, still clean shaven, eyes are still blue, my mouth wasn’t open, so I doubt it was something in my teeth. Ah!

I was smiling, for the first time since coming here I had a genuine smile on my face. Hmm, guess that was Finn’s idea of a jape or a jest. It was then I noticed what was in the shop window; a very tarnished flute and almost destroyed case.

I took in the sad state of the instrument, it seemed to still be in one piece but was covered in rust and stained with some old filth. Yet another thing I hated; people mistreating tools of any kind. What kind of scum would mistreat such a precision crafted object and then sell it to some secondhand store for a pittance? All the love and craftsmanship undone by the foolish and shortsighted. Hell, the inside of the case even had a name embroidered on the inside, Annette Rose-Hebert…

Could be a coincidence, a common name, could be completely unrelated. The embroidery of the hyphen and Hebert were an off color, more than likely a different brand or even different color shade than the original, a later addition.

“What’cha looking at Walt?” Saoirse’s voice broke my stare with the embroidery, and I took a breath before answering.

“The flute in the window, the person who used to own it’s name was Annette Rose-Hebert. Any relation to the Heberts from next door?”

Her silence did not alleviate my concerns. I turned my head to look at her, and the grimace on her face gave me the answer I was dreading. Finn walked over to her and embraced her with one arm.

“Annette was Daniel’s wife, Taylor’s mother. She passed away two years ago, hit and run. That is most definitely her flute, Saoirse here did the embroidery herself back at the shop.” he said, this was the first time I had heard him without a voice full of mirth. “Daniel never really recovered and Taylor took it especially hard. She used to talk the ear off of anyone who would listen, and was filled with so much life. You’d never know it by looking at her now.”

Shame. One of them must have lashed out at the flute and sold it then.

“But what on earth is it doing in a pawnshop window of all places? Daniel and Taylor would never toss something of Annette’s away like that nor would they mistreat one of her most prized possessions.” Saoirse said with mournful curiosity.

And I am instantly proven wrong, I hope so anyway. I don’t know how this flute got here, but I cannot just leave it here to rot. This wrong must be righted. The price tag was faced away from any angle I could see into the store from, I’d have to ask the clerk within for a price. I made for the door, but stopped when I read the sign. I turned to Finn and Saoirse, their expressions cluing me in on their understanding my intentions

“Cash only?” he pointed out the sign in the door “Come on honey, let’s find an ATM”

I nodded my thanks to them before they went off and with my resolve steeled and ready I walked into the pawnshop. Whereas Wayland’s store was well kept, welcoming, and friendly this pawnshop was in every aspect its opposite. The inventory was all in various states of disheveled or disrepair, the floors were caked in ages old stains and filth, and the stench of cheap menthol cigarettes and ammonia filled the air. The man behind the counter was watching something on a small TV, I did not care enough to note what it was. I say man, but he could be better described as a thing; rail thin to the point of almost being able to see the outline of its bone structure, a pallid and diseased complexion filled with grotesque blackheads and acne, hair that seemed to perspire with grease and a general odor wafted from the creature.

I did not bother hiding my disdain and contempt in my expression or voice when I finally spoke to The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter.

“The flute and case in your window, how much?”

The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter made no noise or motion acknowledging my existence, its eyes were transfixed on the small television as if in a daze. I could even see the stained and misaligned teeth in its mouth as it almost drooled. I waited ten whole seconds before asking again.

“The flute and case in your window. I’m asking you again; how much?”

This time The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter replied with dismissive wave “You can wait till I’m done man, fuck off.”

This is ridiculous. I eyed the small TV, it’s power cord was plugged into a socket in the end of the counter-tops. I yanked out the chord and pulled the TV further down the counter before staring at The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter. It seemed quite irate

“What the fuck is your problem pal?” it even spat a little, quaint “The fuck you want?”

Without breaking eye contact, I pointed to the display window “The flute and case. How. Much?”

The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter scoffed and gave me a look of utter scorn “Nine hun-dred dolla.”

It chuckled, I imagine it was expecting me to leave it at that. It obviously never met someone like me.

I lashed out with my right hand, grabbing it by the shirt collar and dragging him halfway across the counter-top, with my other hand I kept it from going for what was more than likely a loaded gun or silent alarm. The creature’s odor was closer and quire potently filling my nostrils. I didn’t have time for this crap

“I want the real price, the one on the tag, the tag that's facing away from foot traffic. You’re running this store aren’t you? How do you expect to sell something with this kind of customer service and with poorly faced inventory?”

The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter began to sweat bullets, and stammer. Babbling nonsense out of fear.

“W-who the fuck are you with?”

Did he think this was a shakedown? Before I could ask, for the fifth time, how much for the flute and case I heard a door opening, a squeal came form the hinges as if they had never been oiled since manufacture. I turned towards the noise, The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter still in my grasp and looking towards the open door, perhaps for a savior.

Out of the door came some skinhead, maybe twenty years old, covered in poorly done stick-and-poke tattoos. The tattoos ran the gamut of Neo-nazi iconography, the skinhead seemed to favor their bastardization of Norse Pagan symbols. Skinhead was trying to stuff an 8-ball of something white and powdered in his too tight jeans, I had heard that it was some fashion trend in the coastal cities to wear jeans that damn near choked the balls of any “man” who wore them. Why he’d wear them in the middle of winter is beyond me. Looking past the skinhead into the back room, I saw what could only be described as a drug stash. Skinhead finally managed to get the 8 ball in his pocket and looked up, his eyes met mine. I didn’t blink, he did.

The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter spoke up after a second of silence, his voice shaking with fear “Dude, I thought I told you to go out the back door?”

Skinhead was starting to shake, there was no fight in his eyes, just the look of a boy about to run the first chance he could. “Oh. OK.” was all he managed to say, with all the confidence of a small child caught doing something stupid. My eyes did not leave the skinhead even when he looked down to the floor and closed the back room door. When the door was closed, there was a small clatter and the sound of a door opening with haste and slamming. I turned my gaze back to The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter. It was still looking at the back room door, its mouth agape in shock. Eventually it slowly turned back to me.

“Wha-wha-what d-d-do you want fr-fro-from m-me?” it stammered out

My scowl deepened, I quickly glanced out the window, thankful for the glare, streaks, and signs obscuring the view in to the store. I could see Finn and Saoirse at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. I turned back to the pathetic waste I was holding and finally spoke.

“Listen up and listen close, I do not enjoy repeating myself. An old couple is going to be walking in here any second, you are not going to utter a word about what has happened, I won’t tell anyone you’ve got drugs stashed in your back room, you’re not going to go after whatever you were reaching for under your counter, and once you have your money and I have the flute we will never see each other again. You understand me?”

The creature bobs his head up and down with so much speed that the grease in his hair may have started being flung everywhere.

“Good.” I let go of its collar and wiped the sweat on my pants. I heard the front door open, and heard both Finn and Saoirse cringe at the stench of the store. “How much for the flute and case?”

The clerk, with fear in his eyes gulped as sweat dripped down his face. “Lemme check man”

He walked over to the window and brought it over, he looked at the tag, put the flute inside the case and closed it. “T-t-ten bucks, dude”

Well what do you know, I had the cash for that, imagine if this idiot would have answered me sooner. This whole transaction would have gone painlessly. Finn hummed and nodded his headphones

“Would you look at that, dear.” he said to Saoirse “Looks like we didn’t have to hit the ATM after all. Got worried over nothing.”

Saoirse chuckled at that, I reached into my jacket pocket for my wallet. The-Thing-Behind-The-Counter went rigid with fear as I pulled out the old leather thing. I opened it up and gave the greasy thing its gold. It went to ring up the purchase, its hands quaking with fear, he even double bagged it. I thanked the creature for the purchase and made for the door, Finn and Saoirse followed me out. The thing spoke out with a tense “Thank you” as we left. With any luck, I’d never have to see its ugly face ever again.

For the first time since I arrived, I welcomed the coastal air as we exited the seedy pawnshop, my grandparents were equally as glad to smell something far less unpleasant. I thought about the flute, I obviously couldn’t give this to Taylor in this state. Didn’t Finn mention something about the late Mrs. Hebert getting the case’s embroidery done at “The Shop”?

“Grandpa Finn?”

“Yes, Walt?”

“You mentioned Grandma Saoirse did the embroidery of the name at ‘The Shop’, what did you mean by that?”

Finn gave me a chuckle and nodded his head to his wife “I suppose with all the excitement we neglected to mention what we do for a living eh, Saoirse?”

She spoke up “Your grandpa and I run a music shop, dear. ‘McCullough's Music & Instrument Repair Shoppe’ our pride and joy second only to your mother, god rest her soul.”

Hmm, first time she’s mentioned mother. I suppose I should ask what she was like eventually. Getting back on the subject at hand I continued my line of questioning.

“Instrument repair? Do you do flutes?” I asked in earnest

Finn replied “We can fix damn near any musical instrument, kiddo. We’re the best in town!”

Perfect. “Could you teach me how to restore the flute and case?”

Finn and Saoirse share The Look. Saoirse gives me a hug as we cross the street “We should be done in time for Christmas.”

Perfect.

Taylor

December 23rd 2010, 8:52 PM

Good god what is wrong with me…

I don’t even know what I’m doing. I am stressing over how I acted with someone who is completely outside the hell that is high school over the suspicion that he was sent by The Bitches Three to make me miserable even at home. Hell I’d apologize to him if he was home!

I was hoping I’d catch him before he left his house today, first day of winter break, but he must have left with his grandparents before I got up in the morning.

Dad’s at some Christmas party for the DWA and here I am alone at home. No decorations, just like last year. Christmas was one of Mom’s things.

Guess I could stare at the ceiling some more. Contemplate the sudden drop in Emma, Sophia, and Madison’s “pranks”. Wonder when the other shoe will drop. A knock at the door brings me out of my staring, wonder who that could be at this hour?

Walking down the stairs wondering what sudden and horrifying thing will happen once I open that door. Just for the sake of it being over and done with quickly, I open the door.

Much to my surprise, its the boy who has been on my mind for the past week. Dressed in a wool lined denim jacket, boot cut jeans, work books, and an actual cowboy hat, carrying a box wrapped with festive gift wrap. His eyes hesitated to meet mine, he seemed nervous.

“Evening, Miss Hebert.” he said. I interrupted him before he could continued

“Taylor’s fine.”

“Right, Taylor, sorry.” He seemed even worse at talking then that first night. “I tried the doorbell, didn’t make any noise so I knocked.”

He struggled with that one. Wonder why?

He took a deep breath before continuing. “It was rude of me to stare at your house. I came here with a peace offering, took a week to finish it. I’d have preferred to just give it to you as soon as it was done, but Grandma Saoirse said with it being so close to Christmas that I may as well wrap it up and do it proper. So here.”

He handed me the box, I took it slowly. It was lighter than its size would make it. As soon as it was in my hands he continued

“You don’t have to wait till Christmas to open it if you don’t want to.” He said sheepishly. There was an awkward silence that hung between us, he seemed to be waiting on me.

“Thank you.” I said “I should apologize for snapping at you the other night.”

He shook his head and held up his hands “ _Mea culpa_ ”

He looked down to his boots and then back up to me, looking me in the eyes. His eyes were pretty intense but not so much I’d look away. He tipped his hat to me

“Good night, Taylor”

“Good night, Walt.”

With that, he quickly walked back home. I closed the door as to not let what little warmth in the house has out.

I took the gift back up to my room. Dad wouldn’t be home till late and I doubt he’d really appreciate a boy, a boy he doesn’t know no less, giving me gift. I sat down, the wrapped box in front of me. Debating whether or not I should open it, my instincts telling me to just throw it away and never think about this again. A small treacherous voice said to take a leap of faith and just open it. The small voice was far more convincing than my instincts.

“This is stupid.” I muttered to nobody and set about tearing apart the wrapping, then opening up the blank cardboard box. The tape job had a convenient roll up to lift up the tape without having to tear into the cardboard.

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I lifted the contents of the box out; a familiar black case. A flute case.

There was no way in hell that he would know about this, there was no way in hell that this was what I thought it was. There was only one way to know for sure. I unlatched the case, and slowly opened it. My breath got caught in my throat, I had to fight back tears when I saw it.

Mom’s flute, fully restored, looking even better then I remembered. No trace of the filth and scum that Emma and them destroyed it with. The case was cleaned, and there was embroidered filigree around the borders. Under Mom’s embroidered name was mine, in the same color thread. On the left of our names was an embroidered rose, on the right a barn owl. Tucked under the flute was a handwritten note, in neat calligraphy; “Always keep her close to your heart”

I let the tears shed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to elaborate on what I'm going for with Walt. Walt's personality, is an amalgamation of Walter Longmire from The Longmire Mysteries/the Longmire television series (His name also comes from the characters from Longmire) and Wayne from the Youtube Red/Premium series "Wayne" with some Jotaru Kujo from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders for flavor. In essence a very laconic, very practical person with a very strong sense of justice, and whose first instinct when confronted with injustice or tragedy is to immediately step up and do something about it with all the grace of a raging bull. I do not know if I'm doing Taylor any justice so far either, nor do I know if she would tear up over the flute's restoration. Seemed right. I am so out of practice writing and I haven't read any traditional literature in earnest since high school. I blame my lack of creative drive on high school to be honest but that is neither here nor there. Again, I welcome any and all criticism. Helps me improve. I hope you are all doing well, have a good one.


	3. Interlude - Daniel Hebert - 12/17/2010

Daniel Hebert

12/17/2010 2:55 PM

Another day, another stack of paperwork all saying the same thing; Nothing. No work opportunities whatsoever for the Dockworkers. Even now so close to the holidays, no work for good men and women who worked their asses of for this city.

What the hell am I even doing?

For every hundred people I find work, another two hundred go hungry. If I could just get that damn ferry back up and running then maybe…

Not now Danny, not now. Focus on the task at hand.

The office line starts ringing, direct line, local number but one I don’t recognize. I should let it go to voicemail, I don’t have time to answer calls from some prankster.

But what if it’s Taylor?

I groan before answering the phone on the fifth ring

“Daniel Hebert, DWA Hiring Manager speaking.” best get this over with

“Oh good, this number is still good. Daniel, its Finn McCullough.”

I gave Finn the first business cards I got printed after I got this position, must have been a little bit after Taylor was born. I’m surprised he still had it after all these years. No time for reminiscing, get to the point.

“How are you Finn?”

“Eh, doing good. Saoirse is good. We’re all good, got some shakeups at home, but welcome ones. How are you holding up Daniel? I know it’s been a while since we last spoke at length”

Why are you calling me in the middle of the day at work Finn? Why now?

“I’m fine. Taylor’s fine. We’re fine.” a lie.

Finn doesn’t reply. A dead silence hangs in the receiver. I don’t have anything to say to Finn, I haven’t borrowed anything from him, neither of us have spoken since Annette’s…

Stop.

“Well, Daniel. I’m just get to the point-”

Thankfully

“-Saoirse and I were out shopping. We were coming out of the store when we spotted something in the display window of a pawnshop. Daniel, it was Annette’s flute. Was it stolen?”

“Are you sure it was Annette’s?”

“Yes I am. It was in the case, the case was open. I saw the embroidery. It was definitely Annette’s”

What? That’s impossible. It’s…

It wasn’t stolen and in some pawnshop window. Taylor has it.

Unless. Someone stole it from Taylor and she didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t she tell me if it was? When did it happen? I know she and I have been distant lately, but…

Focus

“Yeah. Stolen a while back. Didn’t expect to see it again.”

Finn breathes out a sigh of relief and lets out a chuckle.

“That’s a relief. I knew neither you, nor Taylor would ever sell anything of Annette’s on a whim. Let alone something so valuable as her flute. We were out with our grandson Walter. He was the one who spotted it, I made some quip about something on his face and he checked in the pawnshop window. Went right in to go buy it.”

Grandson? Finn and Saoirse have grandchildren? It couldn’t be…

“Finn, this grandson of yours. Is he Eric and Doreen’s boy?

He lets out a chuckle “Yup, he looks just like his father, ‘cept the nose and eyes. That’s all McCullough. Quiet like Eric too.”

Eric Connolly and Doreen McCullough. They were more Annette’s friends than mine. To be honest, never liked Eric. Always seemed like he was three steps away from knocking someone’s lights out for looking at him, or Doreen when she was nearby, funny. He gave me a black eye in a bar fight he started all because he wanted to see what I would do. Gave him one too now that I think about it. Never talked to him at length after, he wasn’t a big talker and I was only around when Annette invited Doreen to the house after they visited Finn and Saoirse. Them visiting, or us visiting them was Annette’s thing. Talking with Finn and Saoirse was Annette’s thing, so was Christmas, Thanksgiving, movies, books, and so much more. It’s not right without her, nothing is.

Finn breaks me out my thoughts with a cough and another chuckle “Saoirse’s teaching Walt the process of restoring the flute. He’s taking to it a bit faster than I’d thought he would. It ain’t rocket science, but not many have the patience for it. At this rate it’ll be good and back to it’s beautiful self by the 23rd. I’ll be sure to send Walt over when it’s all wrapped up and ready to be under the tree. Be sure to tell Taylor the story when she gets it, OK?”

I’ll probably be at the DWA Christmas Party. If only to try and find some job I can give the crew after I slip away from Kurt and Lacey. Taylor will be fine.

“Danny.” Finn is putting on his best concerned father voice, as if I need that right now “Don’t be a stranger, if you need anything or just want some company. We’re right next door, with a cup of coffee and some of Saoirse’s food ready in a jiff. Have a good one Danny.”

“You too”

Finn hangs up first. I push the phone call out of my head. I don’t have time to think on any of it. I need to get back to work.


	4. Origin 1.3

Walt

Friday, December 24th, 2010.

The morning of Christmas Eve in the McCullough household is much different from the Connolly household. Grandfather was not one for celebrating any occasion with decoration or festive attire, he preferred to treat holidays like any other day of rest and had a glass of Jim Beam as he got ahead of the Connolly Ranch paperwork. I was to tend to the horses, check the feed stock, and then patrol the ranch’s fencing for any signs of wolves, coyotes, or other miscreants. I often chose the last horse my father raised, Lily Bell, when I did those patrols and would often check the fence thrice just to stay with her longer. The closest thing to proper Christmas festivities I had with Grandfather was sharing some spiked eggnog with him as he told me stories of his time as the county sheriff and how he’d “Whup every sumbitch who tried to do something stupid and hide it from me”. Only times I ever recall him smiling ear to ear now that I think about it.

Finn and Saoirse are nothing like Grandfather in that regard. The house is warm and filled with festive cheer, the scent of food reaches even my room with the door closed, and Saoirse hums every Christmas song I know of and many more I don’t. Finn helps her cook and sings the actual lyrics to the tunes she hums, and when there’s nothing to do but wait on food to finish a step they dance along. The joy and love in this home almost feels as if it could keep one warm even in the deepest blizzard. It’s, dare I say, a welcome experience. Almost makes me wish I’d be out here indefinitely. Almost.

The stairwell has many a framed photo of what I could rightfully assume to be my mother and grandparents throughout the years, ranging from precious candid moments to more measured captures of milestones such as birthdays or graduation. I’ve picked up the habit to take my time coming down the stairs as to better see the photos that have my mother in them. It’s odd that the first time I actually see what my mother looks like is in the hallway of my maternal grandparents, at the age of fifteen. Wavy red hair from Finn, vivid blue eyes from Saoirse, a small almost naturally pouting mouth that when not widened with a joyful smile is filled with mischief. I do not resemble Mother much, now that I finally know what she looks like. Aside from my nose which evidently comes from Finn’s side of the family and my eye color which comes from Saoirse’s. The photo I’m most interested in today is a candid photo of Mother talking with a woman that greatly resembles Miss Hebert – Taylor, not Miss Hebert – from next door. They’re sitting on the break room couch in the back of the store and both girls are laughing.

I didn’t bother taking more than two minutes to look at the photo, any more time and it would be weird.

Another thing the McCullough house has going for it as opposed to the Connolly house is the carpet throughout the house, allowing me to walk about the house barefoot. Grandfather would probably have shook his head and called me a dirty hippy and insinuate that I’d grow out my hair and stop bathing. As if enjoying the feeling of carpeting between ones toes means I’d become a degenerate. The sight of Saoirse and Finn taking food out of the oven while laughing at some inside joke is a well enough break from imagining what Grandfather would think of my lack of footwear. Finn is the one to first notice me and has already got a cup of coffee ready for me, black as night too. Just the way I like it, no sweetener to get in the way of the french roast’s full flavor profile.

“Glad to see you finally come downstairs, lad.” Finn’s wearing a turtleneck festive sweater today, looking like he’d come out of a Rockwell painting. “Heard from Saoirse you gave Taylor her gift yesterday evening, how’d it go?”

What was there to say? I went next door, I handed her the gift, I left. That’s it. Not much more to it than that. Why do people insist on elaborating on something that doesn’t need any?

“Fine.” Is all I can say really.

Finn cocks his brow in a questioning look, a smirk on his face. Saoirse came to his side and leaned on his shoulder before giving me The Look

“Walter Connolly, you came home as red as a beet last night and with the most adorable smile on your face. I doubt ‘fine’ is all you can say about it.”

It was cold, and I had came in from said cold. Nothing to read into, Saoirse.

“So Walt, mind telling us what you said to young Miss Hebert as you handed a gift wrapped present to her?”

Why must I elaborate?

“I greeted her, she returned it, I handed her the package, told her she didn’t have to wait for Christmas to open it. I said good night, she said good night. That was it.”

I have no clue why, but Finn and Saoirse dropped what they were doing to give me a look I received plenty back home in rural Wyoming; pained concern. Even when someone explains to me in detail why they have that look on their face, I still do not understand it. Saoirse holds up a hand and asks me;

“Walter, are you aware of the implications of your actions the past week?” It is very odd to see such a naturally joyful woman attempt to match my stoicism.

“I don’t follow.” Really I don’t

She motioned me to sit down and took a seat next to my rightfully

“Walt, you’re aware that Brockton Bay isn’t as quiet as Wyoming right?”

No, Saoirse. A bay full of half sunken ships, Neo Nazis play acting like they’re actual Norse neopagans, and tweakers running around everywhere is a common staple of rural Wyoming. I shouldn’t have thought that, it’s unfair, and if Grandfather were to hear that he’d have gave me a good thrashing for that.

“Yes ma’am” is really all I can say

“To say this is a dangerous town would be an understatement, dear. Your grandpa and I are well and truly blessed to have not gone through the misfortunes of our neighbors and even some of our friends. Even with the PRT here and many of those ‘Rogues’ to face those super powered criminals, this city is a rough place to grow up. Especially for girls.”

I could think of a few things to change that. All involving those stories of Grandfather.

“Walt, you were staring at a girl’s window for three nights. I believe you when you say that you were looking at the whole house, but that doesn’t make it any better. That makes all but a…”

Saoirse pauses to think of a polite way to say, as Grandfather would, “a few crazy bitches”

“...special few girls extremely uncomfortable. Taylor’s especially vulnerable and has been in a bad way for a while since her mother’s passing. Judging by how irate she was at you the other night I’d say you aren’t the only person who’s been distressing her.”

If it happens in front of me I’ll stop it.

“Then a week later, on the eve of Christmas Eve, this odd boy staring at her window knocks on her door and hands her a package. No explanation, just dropping it off and that ‘you didn’t need to wait for Christmas to open it’. Now, if I were in her position I’d be debating whether or not to just toss it in the trash, with how bulky the box was I doubt we wouldn’t have seen it in their tote by now. If she did keep it, she would want to get the suspense out of the way and open up this mysterious package from the strange neighbor boy.”

This is starting to sound like the start of some Koontz novel. I may have made a mistake, or several.

“She goes up to her room, or to the kitchen. She opens up the box and finds a lost treasure; her mother’s flute. She opens the case and finds it better than new. With new embroidery in the liner, a rose, an owl, and her name. How could this boy possibly know that Annette called her daughter ‘My Little Owl’?”

Oh god.

“And tucked under the flute, is a handwritten note. Telling her to always keep her mother in her heart”

Oh lord.

“Given those circumstances Walt, would you say that she may in fact be a bit concerned regarding her new neighbor; a strange boy that knows more than he should who has a sight line into her bedroom window and lives directly next door?”

Oh Jesus.

Finn took the opportunity to sit to my left and give me a presumably consoling pat on the shoulder. I took the opportunity to start banging my head against the table. I knew I was bad at socializing, I didn’t realize this bad. Finn’s commentary did not help

“Walt, I’d say you made your bad first impression far worse.”

I have to make this right. I cannot let this stand. I try to get out of the table but Finn and Saoirse are already gently keeping me from getting out of the chair. Saoirse is rubbing my back, again with more physical contact, and Finn is leaning in to look me in the eye.

“What are you trying to do Walt?”

I try to explain that I need to make this right. That I need to go over and talk to her and explain the situation. I do not enjoy leaving things like this to fester, best to nip it in the bud and let the other go from there.

“Walt that is a terrible idea” I’d have never expected Saoirse to be able to speak so bluntly “You would only be making things worse, in fact it’d be a miracle if you didn’t come out of that uninjured”

That would be completely fair and Miss Heb- Taylor’s – right. I have wronged her, it needs to be righted.

“You don’t need to do anything dear.”

How so Saoirse? How so?

“Finn had called Taylor’s father the day you found the flute, got the details from him, and told him you’d be coming by. Finn told him to wait till after Taylor opened it on Christmas, but if she opened it early I wouldn’t be surprised if he explained the situation to her then and there.”

Well, that kind of helps. Nothing more to do then. Still feel like the backside of a mule right now. Guess I should hang those blackout curtains then, that’d get my mind off things. Later, first I should help Finn and Saoirse with the dishes.

I let out a sigh and thanked my grandparents for explaining the situation, saying I’d help out with dishes before getting what I needed to hang up the curtains in my room. Finn offered to help me with that, but I’ve done it before. Grandfather made sure I knew how to hang curtains at the age of eight, he had me replace the curtains of every window in the house after I complained about the moonlight coming in to my room and keeping me awake. He stuck a floodlight outside my window until I “hung my own damn blackout curtains” for good measure. He then had me replace the curtains over at the Sheriff's Office while he talked to that “Useless Replacement of a Sheriff”. I got cookies from the receptionist while I worked. Wonder how she’s doing these days, can’t have been completely calm given the circumstances of why I’m even here.

Before Finn showed me where the tools were, Saoirse had me load up her car with all the excess food she cooked. She said she’d be delivering it to a church here in town, a surprise to me seeing as how I doubt many people in this city would even know what a church was if it bit them. After that, I had what I needed and took the supplies I needed up to my room, the box was a bit heavier than I’d have thought but I did ask for the sturdiest set available for the value and Finn delivered.

Despite all of that, I was still worried about this whole Taylor situation. Between Saoirse thinking I’m smitten with her, Taylor thinking I’m some sort of malcontent, and my own damn need to solve problems in front of me, I had a very unquiet mind. It was probably for nothing too, Taylor seems a smart girl and I don’t say that because of the glasses. She’s probably fine, she probably thinks I’m odd but non threatening and with any luck she doesn’t go to Winslow. Which means the odds of us seeing each other beyond the awkward social courtesy of greeting ones immediate neighbor we’ll rarely see each other.

Yes. That’s it. Now nothing to do but hang these, slightly heavier than average, curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick thing; this chapter, the previous interlude, and the next two chapters I have, were all supposed to be 1.3 but as I read my outline and typed up this chapter I realized that they should really be separated into their own things. Sadly that means the more overt supernatural stuff will be put off till then. Rest assured it is coming and Origin is almost over. Which means I have the arduous task ahead of me to start writing magic and fight scenes better than I did back in High School. Still expect 1.4 and an Interlude in the coming week or so. I thank you all for your continued reading and input, it means a lot and it helps keep me going. Have a good one.


	5. Origin 1.4

Taylor

12/24/2010 Morning

How!?

How the hell did he know about any of it?

Little Owl? The Flute? Mom?

Emma destroyed the flute completely, how could it be all in one piece?

Where was it?

Why did he pick it up?

Too many questions and the only way to get direct answers is out of the question. I’ve been watching Walt’s window off and on since that first night we “spoke” initially to make sure he wasn’t keeping up his house watching thing, peeking through a gap in my curtains. He was true to his word he hadn’t been staring at the house since then, the few times I’ve caught glimpses of him in his room or in his driveway he’d been either reading his book, _The Rider of Lost Creek_ by Louis L’Amour, or taking measurements of the window frame. Sometimes he would look up to the sky, his feet up on something out of view. He looked more at ease with himself when he did that, his gaze looked less intense, and that almost scowl on his face gave way to an almost perfect calm. Today he’s…

...Having trouble hanging black out curtains. I don’t know if he saw me looking at him, or if he just needed curtains but he was hanging them. Or at least trying to, they looked a little off balance and he was not having a good time of it. He almost got them up on the hooks before the curtain rod seperated and beaned him right in the forehead. I almost laughed at that, I chuckled lightly when he fell.

Enough of that Taylor, no laughing at the strange boy next door.

I closed the gap of my curtains before deciding to head downstairs for breakfast, trying and failing to not think about how the stone-faced boy hurting himself doing something stupid.

Dad is already downstairs, sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand and three empties on the end table. He has an extremely concerned look on his face, and it doesn’t leave when he looks at me.

I want to say something more than “Good morning” but I can’t

He sounds like wants to say more than “Morning” but can’t

Same shit, different day I guess. The heavy silence between us is broken by a knock at the door. Dad finishes the last swig of his PBR and gets up to answer it, I just stay leaning against the stairwell wall and look towards the door, not like I would be able to see who it was from where I was standing but I could still eavesdrop.

“Merry Christmas Daniel.” its an older woman’s voice that comes from the door.

“Hello, Saoirse.” It must be this “Grandma Saoirse” that Walt mentioned “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, I just came to drop off some food for you and Taylor so I won’t be staying long. Apple pie, meatloaf, some ham, turkey, stuffing, the works.”

Dad looks a little irritated at that, I don’t know why. He never seemed to turn down food from people he knew before today. What about Saoirse puts him on edge?

Dad looks to me and waves me over “Taylor, can you help bring in some of the food?”

I nod and come over, getting a look at this Saoirse.

Saoirse McCullough was not what I would have expected, especially here in Brockton Bay; Her hair was a dark brown that was almost black, with some streaks of gray, her blue eyes reminded me of Walt’s but they felt warm and filled with joy rather than intensity, she was a head shorter than I was and of average build, finally she was wearing a very festive looking sweater underneath a parka. Her smile became wider, but her eyes didn’t change from the look of concern she was giving Dad.

“Hello dear.” she said with warmth.

“Hello Mrs. McCullough.” I replied, she held up a hand

“None of that, dear. Just call me Saoirse.” she gestured to a cooler next to the steps “Foods in the icebox.”

Dad, Saoirse and I brought the tupperware containers in to the kitchen. Saoirse looked like she wanted to say something to either of us but didn’t and once the food was on the table, she left. Just said “goodbye” and “Merry Christmas”

As Dad and I put the food in the fridge, I noticed the post-it note labels. The handwriting was neat cursive caligraphy.

It couldn’t be.

Once all the food was in the fridge, I excused myself and went back up to my room. I opened up my closet, and pulled out the flute case and set it on my desk. I opened it up and looked at the note, still tucked under the flute

“Always keep her close to your heart.” written neatly, precisely, and with flourish.

I’d have to bring up one of the notes to be sure, but it was looking close enough. I’d have to wait till Dad falls asleep tonight to not make a fuss of it.

12/25/2010 3:30 AM

Dad’s in bed in his room, he’s had the rest of the twelve pack of PBR too so he won’t be waking up anytime soon. Even with the creaky floors, it doesn’t take much effort to go down to the kitchen and take a few of the post-its then bring it back to my room.

Turning on my lamp, and holding the note card and post-its up to the light and lining up the lettering. I made sure to check twice for each letter but my suspicions were confirmed. They were the same handwriting; Saoirse’s handwriting. If Saoirse wrote the note, then that means she must have told Walt about all of it…

I would have to ask her then., preferably without Walt around. That’s it then, as soon as Walt is out of the house for whatever reason. Which means; more staring at the McCullough house.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

12/26/2010 7:30 AM

I shouldn’t be surprised that Dad hasn’t come in to check on me at all for the past day, but I am. Even if I’m glad he hasn’t popped in and seen me spying on the boy next door’s bedroom window. That’d make for an extremely awkward conversation, and I’d rather not get The Talk again from Dad.

Either way, I haven’t really moved out of my room all that much other than to get food and drink. Saoirse’s apple pie is very good, and the sugar has been keeping me wired enough to keep on my spying and allows me to refine my plan to go next door;

If Walt and Mr. McCullough leave the house and Saoirse stays behind, I’ll go over to return the empty tupperware (thanks to my transferring it to our own underutilized containers) and come by and then I just ask her about the flute. Dead simple.

To my surprise, I saw Walt and Mr. McCullough leave this morning. Mr McCullough was wearing a sport coat and slacks with some shined dress shoe, while Walt was dressed in what probably passed as formal western wear. They got in one of the family cars and drove off. Formal wear means a long running errand, perfect timing.

I got dressed in something clean and warm, and made my way downstairs. Dad had gone to work earlier so I didn’t need to explain why I was leaving the house or why I was returning the tupperware of food we barely gotten into. Once he got home, tonight he’d probably not even notice the different containers if they had the post it notes on. I made sure to wash and dry Saoirse’s containers before I set out, didn’t want to be rude. I took a deep breath as I stepped outside and locked up, already having second thoughts. With every step I took, I rationalized that nothing bad was going to happen and tried listen to that small treacherous voice telling me that it was going to be ok rather than listen to my instincts. Saoirse wasn’t like Walt, she was just a very friendly and kind old woman. She wasn’t going to eat me or bake me into a pie. She wasn’t some witch from some Grimm’s Fairy Tale. Every rationalization did not help calm my nerves when I finally rung their doorbell.

Before I could even think of taking a step back, the door had opened. Saoirse beamed at me with nothing but love and warmth.

When was the last time anyone looked at me like that?

“Taylor!” she beckoned me to come in “Come on in, you’ll catch a death of cold.”

I nodded and walked inside as she closed the front door. The house smelled of cinnamon and gingerbread, I wondered if that was what she had in the oven. I handed Saoirse the empty containers and spoke up

“I just came by to drop off the containers, Mrs. McCullough. Thank you for the food, my dad and I really appreciated it.”

Saoirse took the containers and led me to the living room “Oh it was no trouble, dear and please, call me Saoirse. Have a sit down while I put these away.”

I tried to protest, but she stopped me before I could say anything.

“Now, now. I just took the kettle off the stove and I always boil enough for two cups by habit. Would you like some tea, dear? If you’re worried about Finn and Walter interrupting us, they’ve gone to help Father Ramirez with the St. Nicholas Church canned food bank.”

She spotted the confused look on my face immediately, seemingly reading my mind

“St. Nicholas of Myra not Father Christmas.” she said with a nod “Forgive me, Santa Claus. Not Father Christmas. I’m not in Ireland anymore.”

She’s Irish? Never would have guessed without the-

“-lack of accent?”

OK is she reading my mind?

“I’m not psychic dear, I’ve just gone through this many a time in my years living here.”

OK, then. I let out a sigh before saying “Tea would be great, thanks.”

She gave me another warm smile as I took a seat on the couch, it was perfectly comfortable and almost seemed to cradle you. I could see myself passing out on this couch if I didn’t have to do anything else.

“Before I go dear, what kind of tea would you like? I have white tea, green tea, black tea…”

I answered before she went further down the list “Green tea, please.” I tried to give her a smile when I said that, I don’t think it was convincing. Saoirse went into the kitchen and left me alone in the McCullough living room. To pass the time I took in the living room and its feel.

The McCullough's home was filled with photographs of themselves and what I can assume is their friends and extended family from years past, a couple of shelves with old books on varying subjects with the majority being about the history of the British Isles and its mythology, another shelf of scrapbooks and photo albums, statuettes and various nick-knacks depicting seals or sea lions, and the only thing that seemed out of place among the old and well loved items; a relatively new entertainment center with a flatscreen, the glass panes of the shelving revealed a vast collection of old movies on DVD and Betamax tapes with dates, locations, and the subject written on the formerly blank labels.

All in all, this house seemed filled with love and life. A far cry from my own home. Saoirse came in just in time to distract me from that train of thought with a steaming cup of tea in both hands, she set both down on coasters before sitting by my side in a large sofa chair.

Saoirse took a sip of her tea, waiting for me to take a sip of mine as well before she spoke

“I take it you were wondering how Walt knew about your mother and the flute?”

I couldn’t stop the shocked look on my face, Saoise continued with a hand held up trying to calm me down.

"Finn and I told him when we came upon it. As to how Finn and I knew we had sold that flute to your mother when she was ten years old back in ‘79. She was one of our first regular customers, the first person we made a custom case for, and the first to have an embroidered liner. She often came in to have the flute tuned up or fixed throughout her school days.”

I never knew…

“We came upon the flute when we went to get school clothes and supplies for Walt on the 17[SUP]th[/SUP]. We were coming out of a store when Finn made a joke about something on Walt’s face. We hadn’t seen him smile genuinely since he got in to town, see and Finn loves to see people smile. Walt saw the flute in the window after checking himself in the reflection and called Finn and I over. We told him that it was your late mother’s and he instantly went inside to buy the flute to return it to you. Whoever stole it from you dear didn’t get much for it, the shop-keep sold it to us for ten dollars which meant the thief only got five at most. Neither party seemed to know what the silver alone was worth, serves them right.”

Saoirse, the thief is still out there. She still goes after me. Every day at school. Not so much the last few days of school, but I imagine they’re trying to lull me into a false sense of security before doing something really bad. I don’t know if she’ll ever stop, or if she’ll get her comeuppance.

“It surprised me when Walt told us exactly what he told you when he delivered the flute. I had an inkling that Walt would be a bit on the quiet side like his father, but I didn’t think he’d be so averse to speaking or so blunt. Nor did Finn and I expect him to be so eager to help around the house or do things himself. He put up his own curtains, offered to oil the hinges of all the doors, always offers to clean and put away the dishes whenever we’re done with them. Finn and I have to actively tell him not to help out half the time, we’re old but not invalid.”

She stopped to take a sip of tea and gave me a wink

“Which is why I made sure that Walt was in the room and spun a yarn about my back aching when Finn and I discussed helping out Father Ramriez.”

I took another sip of the tea before speaking

“How did you know I would come and ask about the flute?”

She put a hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze

“I may be old, but I am not blind, dear. It may have only been a few times we saw you coming home from school, but you were clearly distressed every time. Something is going on at that school and clearly nobody is helping you. Then some strange boy moves in next door, in a room that directly peers into yours and does nothing but gaze out towards your house for three nights. You yell at him and he stops, but arrives a week late with a gift. Not just any run of the mill gift, but a lost treasure restored to its true beauty. With embroidery that only someone who knew your mother and her nickname for you would think to put in. It wouldn’t have mattered if this happened in mine and Finn’s day or even in olden times, any young woman would be right to be suspicious and seek answers where she could.”

Saoirse took another sip of her tea and then went on a long tangent about her love life, I wasn’t completely listening and was trying to find an ulterior motive for these people to care. This all sounded too good to be true, nobody in this town did something for nothing. Even the PRT get paid. I noticed one of the clocks, I was legitimately surprised I had been here for almost an hour and a half.

I tried to listen to Saoirse’s story and then just ask “Why?” but she threw a curve-ball at me as I faded back in to the conversation

“…after that, I gave Finn my coat and he got down on one knee, gave me his ring, and proposed. We've been married a glorious 60 years since and I wouldn't trade those years for anything. Oh, but enough about this old woman's love life, how about you dear? There a strapping young man you have your eye on?”

Naturally I replied with all the grace and poise of a proper lady

“Bu-wha?”

Saoirse laughed a little at that, but there was no malice to it.

“Oh, I’m just teasing you dear. Nevertheless, it won’t be long before you fill out just like your mother did and your father will be having a very difficult time fending off all the suitors that will be lining up outside your door.”

Fat chance of that, I look like a Muppet at best and an upright frog at worst. I’d have to find someone who had low standards and was really desperate to want to be with me in any regard. Kind of like Greg from school now that I think about it, and I really wish I didn’t. I’d rather be a cat lady then have to live with someone like _Greg_ for the rest of my life.

“Thank you for the tea, Saoirse.” is all I can say to her. I don’t think there was any hiding my discomfort at what she said though.

“No trouble at all, dear.” She says, leaning over to a seal shaped cup with a lot of pencils and pens and grabbing a note card out of the end table drawer to write down her phone numbers, one for the house and one for her store, handing it to me “Should you need someone to talk to dear, for whatever reason, just give me a ring and I’ll make sure the boys are out of the house.”

I may just take you up on that offer Saoirse, this was the longest and friendliest conversation I’ve had in quite a while. Even if it was one sided.

Saoirse got out of the chair and I came up with her, her gently guiding me to the front door and giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder as she walked me out. Before we could reach the front door, in came Mr. McCullough, with a determined and concerned look on his face.

“Saoirse, do you remember where I left that first aid kit I bought a month ago?”

“Finn? What’s wrong, why do you need it?”

Saoirse left my side to follow Mr. McCullough, Walt coming in to the house soon after.

“Grandpa, I told you I’m fine.” his voice was muffled by a bloodied rag pressed against his nose. I could see the knuckles on both of his hands were bruised and split, and his right eye was turning black from bruising.

His normally calm and intense gaze turned to shock when he saw me, he turned away and put his hat back on, trying to hide the damage.

“Hey Walt.” was all I said

“Hello, Taylor.” his voice was filled with embarrassment

I could still see his knuckles, I had to ask “What happened to your hands?”

He looked them over before answering “Hurt ‘em”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

A small and awkward silence yet again hung between us, I don’t think either of us know how to talk to others all that well. Finn had found the first aid kit and came out with Saoirse still asking him what had happened.

“While we were loading up the trucks at the St Nicolas’ some idiot thought that it’d be a good idea to hold the congregation up with some Saturday night special, thinking that he was going to get money and jewelry at a food bank delivery. Idiot shot the gun in the air twice and Walt wrestled him to the ground to get the gun away form him. He got hurt subduing him, we would have patched him up at the church but their first aid kit was stolen Christmas day of all times.”

“Oh lord.” Soairse went over to help tend to Walt’s wounds, which he assured her were not that bad saying he had had worse. Finn had continued the story.

“The guy is on his way to Brockton Bay General to get looked at for the beating Walt gave him after he tried to go for the gun again, they sent two ambulances and none of the EMTs would even look at Walt for a second, saying his injuries were nothing serious and could be fixed with rubbing alcohol and a first aid kit and to stop wasting their time.”

Mr. McCullough swore under his breath as he tried to get some cotton balls soaked in rubbing alcohol against a nasty looking gash against Walt’s cheek.

Walt stepped back and held his free hand up to us “I’m telling you, I’m fine. The bleeding stopped a while back and it just looks bad. I just need to rinse off, sleep it off, no bandaging or ice-pack necessary. I’m telling you, I have had worse, this is nothing.”

“It was nice speaking with you Saoirse.” I spoke up as she tried to stop Walt from walking up the stairs. 

“Oh, it’s always a pleasure to have company over, dear.” she gave me a quick hug before opening the door for me, leaving me to walk home.

On my way home, my thoughts turned to Walt Connolly and the crazy tale of him going after someone with a gun on instinct. I didn’t really believe that anybody, let alone a normal person, would just dive in and help someone for nothing and just for the sake if it being the right thing to do. As soon as I got home, I turned on the TV and tried to find a channel with the news on, it was a quick search and they were in the middle of their coverage already talking about it.

“Eyewitness reports say that a lone gunman attempted to hold up the congregation of St. Nicolas’ Church on the corner of 9[SUP]th[/SUP] street and Hope avenue during their post-Christmas delivery of canned goods to a local food bank. It was foiled by a young man in the congregation who wrestled the assailant to the ground and subdued him before emergency services and the BBPD came to get a hold of the situation. By the time they had arrived, the suspect was tied up with some rope meant for loading the food bank donations, and his weapon disassembled. BB News 10 tried to find the young man for comment, but Father Rodriguez the church’s head priest said he had already left the premises to seek medical attention. I guess that just goes to show; not all heroes wear capes. Back to you-”

I shut the TV off, the story seemed to match up but there wasn’t a photo or even a name. Still, that small and treacherous voice in the back of her mind was telling her to believe what she was seeing. Walt Connolly was the kind of boy who would go out of his way to right a wrong he came across or to save people he doesn’t know on pure instinct. The whys would have to wait until she had the time to speak with him directly.

I went up to my room, ready to close my blinds completely and then figure out a belated Christmas gift for him when I saw him. He was shirtless giving me a view I didn’t expect to find getting an eyeful of his above average physique and a good look at a circular scar above his heart. I got a good look at his face and he wasn’t lying to Finn, his wounds looked a lot worse then they were and just needed the dried blood wiped off.

He walked out of view, presumably to “sleep it off”, and I closed my blinds.

After wards I lied down on my bed, holding Mom’s flute to my chest, and was alone with my thoughts.

Walt

Sometime, Someplace

_It was colder than any place I had ever been too._

_The wind was howling so loud, and the snow was blowing so hard it seemed like the blizzard was alive, clawing at my bare chest and feet._

_I looked around frantically, searching for any kind of shelter. There was a warm light in the distance, and I walked towards it. I did my best to ignore winter’s bite and attempted to keep my torso warm by rubbing my hands on my sides hoping and praying that I wouldn’t freeze before I reached that light._

_As I walked closer, the endless darkness around me parted to reveal a stark and grim hall, like something Tolkien would have written about, lit up with sconces of blue fire that didn’t give off heat, but gave off more cold._

_I pressed on, I would not die here, not like this. Not after what I’ve been through. Not after…_

_The light grew brighter as I pressed on, its warmth eluding me as the bitter cold gnawed at my bones. It felt like an eternity before I made it to a tall pair of doors attempting to bar me from my destination._

_With the last of my strength, I stumbled into the doors and fell into the room of the warm light, furtively crawling to warm myself._

_When I looked around as I warmed myself, I saw the room was some kind of throne room or dining hall, the warm light was a large bowl in the center with a flame that had no source. I looked around the walls and saw various battle standards and shields, all from different cultures, nations, and armies._

_I looked past the fire, and saw the two thrones within the grand room held two figures sitting upon them; one of them a man in an old duster, with boots as black as night, and instead of a face was a bare skull with the eye sockets seeming to absorb any and all light within them. On his brow was a crown of shattered bone bound with thorns_

_To the man’s right was a woman in a dress more apropos of spring or summer and not the dead cold of this frost. Unlike the man next to her, I could see her face and body were that of a living woman, though her eyes were obscured by what I could only describe as a mourning or wedding veil and her vibrant red hair._

_The man spoke with a dark voice, filled with purpose and authority “He is not yet ready”_

_The woman spoke with a voice as smooth as silk and with a hint of mischief “It is still good to see him in the flesh, so to speak.”_

_The man placed a hand on the woman’s and spoke “So it is, my love”_

_Before I could ask who these people were, the doors behind me were thrown open by a sudden and constant burst of wind, and shortly after the wind whipped me off my feet and flew me back into the frozen wastes, slamming me into the ground…_

I awoke on the floor in a cold sweat, my face still sore from the tweaker’s haymakers from the church. I looked up to my desk to see the new alarm clock I had gotten for Christmas from Finn the red lights reading 3:33 AM.

I got off the floor, to get back in my bed when I noticed my curtains were still open. Knowing I wouldn’t get to sleep if I left them open, I moved to close them when I saw something strange atop the Hebert’s house.

Standing perfectly still, without disturbing the freshly fallen snow on the roof, was a black cat with a white spot on its chest and violet eyes that held an uncharacteristic intelligence and mischief.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing, and when I looked again the cat was gone.

I must be still tired from sleeping off the wallop, I closed the blinds and hopped into bed. Trying not to think on the strange dream or the strange cat.

_???_

_Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, i wanted to split that last part as a seperate interlude but I got into the groove of things and my fingers wouldn't stop flying across my keyboard. Some hints of the supernatural and more to come in future. I did not intend this to be a particularly slow fic but I wanted to ease people in and ease myelf back into writing. I thank you all for reading. Have a good one.


	6. Chapter 6

Walt

12/28/2010, 2:00 PM

McCullough’s Music Shoppe & Instrument Repair is yet another surprising thing in the hellhole known as Brockton Bay. Finn and Saoirse clearly put their heart and soul into the store, they were not lying when they said it was their pride and joy. It was rather spacious, with a small testing area next to the left hand display window for people to try out the electric instruments and amps. More instruments then what I would think would be stocked in a mom n’ pop like this including your usual instruments; electric guitars, synths, drum sets, drum machines, standard brass, woodwinds, strings, percussion, etc. What really surprised me were the oddballs; I saw a set of bagpipes, a sitar, a koto, strange multi necked guitars, what was called a theramin, and more things that I could not rightly describe.

One of the shops clients by the name of Donald Rhodes the Third, a repeat client according to Finn, was testing one of those strange instruments. He was about my age and was quick to “educate” me on the exact name of the instrument, “Sitaritar”, and its model, Danelectro Coral Electric, as he played the damn thing. To say that he played it well was an understatement but I would never admit it, especially with that smug look on his face. I would have loved nothing more than to use another customer as an excuse to walk away from this guy and his damn tailored three piece suit, how he would lovingly praise the brand, and how he’d appraise my look and criticize my fashion choices;

“Cowboy chic’s a little passe around here, babe.”

Good lord in heaven, grant me the strength not to offend one of my grandparents’ repeat and wealthy customers.

“If you ever want some fashion tips, I can refer you to a good stylist, he may be out of your price range though.” He said with that damn smirk on his face “Of course I imagine he’d give you a discount just on principle of how challenging it would be to make you look good”

Like I give a damn and like I need any fashion tips from a guy who smells like over-expensive perfume. Just pay for the damn guitar thing, pay for the damn strings in your bag, and get the fuck out.

“Wally, my friend.”

It’s Walt and I ain’t your friend

“I think you and I are going to get along swimmingly, Finn and Saoirse must be glad to finally have an extra set of hands, shame they had to wait on out of town family to be that extra set though. Don’t see why they couldn’t have hired locally.”

Mother, Father, if you can hear me; please grant me the strength not to take this idiot out back and rough up his tailored suit.

I kept my mouth shut and rung him up, he didn’t get the sitaritar saying he’d rather get a vintage original and not the reissue. For someone who clearly had money judging by the mass of hundreds in his wallet and his oh so beloved tailored Pegaso suit, the guy went for the cheapest and shittiest strings we had. I guess even rich kids can be cheapskates.

Luckily for my rising anger, Finn called me to the back of the store. He has a way about him that seems to calm me down. Even better, as soon as I grasp the back office doorknob I hear a very ungraceful yelp from someone sounding like Rhodes, something crashed too. To say I was smiling from ear to ear would be an understatement. Finn was working on some of the backlog of paperwork for the shop, and his brow was furrowed in concentration.

“Walt, would you be able to go down to that market around the corner and pick up the things on this list?” he handed me a sheet of paper from a legal pad “Your grandma and I can still multitask, as much as we appreciate your help.”

I still don’t know why they were surprised that I wanted to help at the shop. Mother clearly did if the little doodles on the break room pin board, the photos of her helping people at the shop, and her old work locker still being there were any indicator. Was it something to do with what Father was like? Is it not normal for kids in the city to help family?

“Of course Grandfath-Granpa” I don’t like that, at all. “I appreciate being able to work.”

There’s that concerned look on his face again. I enjoy working, the only leisure activities I enjoy are reading and riding Lily Bell and sadly the latter is never happening again.

Calm. Down.

Finn hands me an envelope with some money in it, enough for the run and then some

“You can keep the change, consider it a Christmas bonus before your first check.”

Godammit Finn. “Grandpa, I’m not doing this for money, you do not need to pay me anything”

Finn just waves dismissively “Nonsense lad, you need some spending money of your own and with how much you’ve been doing for us it would be unfair to you if we didn’t pay you.”

Its my duty as your grandson to help you.

“Besides, I imagine you’ll be heading straight for the shop as opposed to home once school starts. If not that you’d find something that needed fixing and do it. May as well do it here with us and be paid for it, lad.”

I grimaced but thanked him anyway. I’ll just hand the remainder back to Finn somehow. I made my way back to the front of the store, still wondering why Finn wouldn’t just let me help and not pay me. Family shouldn’t have to pay family for doing their damn duty. The door opened before I could reach the doorknob and I bumped into whoever came in.

“I’m sorry-” I tried to say as I looked the person in the eye

“It was my-” she said as she looked me in the eye.

It was Taylor. I wonder what she was doing here. Was there something wrong with the flute? Did I need to fix it again?

I moved out of the way to let her in, she thanked me and walked to one of the small chairs by the equipment test area. I followed and sat across from her on the old amp. Finn had said that this amp once fell off the truck it came in and still sounded fine, I figured that it could take the one-eighty pounder that I was and be used as a makeshift stool for a minute.

“Didn’t expect to bump into you so literally.” she said

“Sorry.” was all I could say

“Don’t worry about it, not a big deal.” she sighed and rubbed her hands on her legs, looking around the shop before continuing. “I can see why Mom came here a lot.”

“What brings you here if you don’t mind me asking, was there something you needed for the flute?”

Best get to the point and hope she does not take that as me being rude. Still don’t understand why being direct is considered rude half the time.

“No, it’s great. Thank you, by the way.”

“It was no trouble”

“Seriously, thank you. It’s one of the nicest thing anybody has done for me in a while.”

Please do not open up to me.

Please do not open up to me.

Please do not open up to me.

“Sorry to hear that.”

and there's the pained concern, she looked like she wanted to say something to that but didn’t. She broke the silence, thankfully.

“I came by to talk with your grandma. I forgot to ask her something when I was at your place the other day.”

“She’s in the stock room, she should be out in a bit.” I say “I’m going out to the store to pick up some things for Finn and Saoirse. Would you like anything?”

She shakes her head “I’m good, thanks. I’m actually not going to be here long.”

I nodded, and tipped my hat to her. “Very well. Good afternoon, Taylor”

“Bye, Walt”

with that I left to do what Finn asked of me.

McCullough’s Music Shoppe was in a part of town called The Champion’s District and it wasn’t on any maps of the city I had looked at, no matter how recent. I tried asking people around here the two days I had come here to restore the late Mrs. Hebert’s flute why that was and nobody seemed to give me a straight answer. When I tried looking into the history of the area I hit similar dead ends, nobody could give ma concrete answer of where it got its name, who named it, why it was built, or when. It all seemed like some story that people were told after a long game of telephone, and I gave up on figuring out why to focus on the flute. Even now that I come out here to help at the shop I do my best to avoid finding the answers to those questions, even if its a loose end that will gnaw at my mind for days to come. According to Finn, the design of the district was reminiscent of Japanese shopping arcades that led to a circular promenade or plaza, I could not recall which was the correct term, with benches, a tree in the center, and a few cafes and restaurants. There was an access street that ran parallel to the place where there was a loading dock for deliveries and a small parking lot for the shop owners and their employees. Finn had said that he had yet to see a shop close up or move since he and Saoirse set up there and the newest shop was tattoo parlor that had opened in the mid 80’s and was still going strong. McCullough’s was at the very end of the indoor shopping area and had quick access to the main entrance where the big sign saying “Welcome to The Champion’s District” stood, and even a quicker beeline to a small market around the corner by the name of M&M’s Market.

I wasn’t aware if the store owners intended for the name to be identical to a candy coated chocolate treat and to be honest I was afraid to ask.

I opened the door and was greeted with a very odd sight; the inside of M&M’s could best be described as if a Mexican restaurant and an Asian convenience store were sawed in half then glued together along the divides. The restaurant half had a small seating area with plastic lawn furniture for the tables and chairs atop red, white, and green ceramic tiles while the visible wall had various banners and framed photos of what I assumed to be churches in Mexico and various painted depictions of men and women in some manner of Mesoamerican dress, there were a few elderly Hispanic gentlemen conversing in their native tongue while they ate their food, and from where I stood I could see an antique stone statuette of a feathered serpent next to the cash register. The Asian market half had various snacks from east Asia and a good selection of domestic fare, the magazine rack held a large selection of some East Asian publication and an equally large local section, there was a hand carved box next to the magazine rack with a large stack of books and thick magazines in shrink wrap with a large hand written sign taped on saying “Used Books and Back Issues”.

After taking in the strange store I double checked the list, grabbed a basket, and got everything on it. Seeing the used books bin made me rethink returning the change to Finn, I would finish _The Rider of Lost Creek_ soon and needed new literature. Digging through the box the selection was far more eclectic than I had initially assumed with the standout being a fairly large and hefty book titled _Encyclopedia Fabula: An Annotated Guide to Creatures of Legend._ I do not know why this book caught my attention, maybe it was finding it laying at the bottom of a used books box in some hybrid market, maybe it was how old and worn the cover was, but I knew I had to have this book. I looked over every inch of it searching for a price tag, but there wasn’t one. It appeared that, yet again, I have issues with finding the price tag of second hand items.

I put the large book in the basket and made my way to the restaurant corner and ordered Finn’s super burrito. The man behind the counter, and apparent chef, seemed personable enough to ask a few of the question that was lingering in my head, I tried what little Spanish I knew when I asked him.

“Con permiso señor, hablas ingles? Mi español es malo” I know how to order food and ask that question. That is the extent of my Spanish.

“Yeah, man. I’ve got ‘chu.” he said in a barely accented English “What ‘chu need.”

Great.

“Just had a question about the place, sir.”

“Okay, ask away man.”

I took a deep breath before asking “The name and the interior design. There a story behind that?”

The chef finished up cooking the pastor and got to making the burrito, facing me, when he answered.

“Well, the owners are a husband and wife; Martín and Makoto. They both came to America with dreams of running their own businesses, a taqueria and a konbini. When they got married, they had just enough money to start a business and decided to try being both. To their surprise, it did well. Even in the days of Allfather, even now. Mexican food and Japanese snacks are fairly popular it seems.”

“What does Odin have to do with the success or failure of a hybrid store?” I had to ask

The chef just chuckled “No, as in the old leader of the Empire 88. The neo-nazis. Their leader called himself Allfather, their new leader calls himself Kaiser.”

If I didn’t dislike them already, the further bastardization of Norse Paganism cemented it.

“Hell, never been shook down by them once. Must be the gods’ will.” he gestured to the feathered serpent statuette and to the framed picture of Jesus as he handed me the foil wrapped burrito. “Makoto can ring up everything ‘chu got up front. I’m Martín by the way.”

Huh.

“Gracias señor” I said with a tip of the cattleman

“De nada, your Sapanish aint bad man” he said with a laugh “Your pronunciation is top dog man.”

I doubt it.

I made my way to the front and brought my items on to the counter, I was greeted by a Japanese woman wearing a miniature sombrero and fake moustache.

“Hola! Much gusto, soy Makoto!” she said with heavily Japanese accented Spanish and a mischief filled smile

I get the strangest feeling that the area around The Champion District has some kind of effect making the women here particularly perky. Or perhaps it’s a feature of the Atlantic coast.

“I’d like to buy these. Also, this book doesn’t have a price tag.” I said as neutrally and politely as I could muster, I did not want to come off flustered.

The woman looked closely at the book and then looked me dead in the eye with all seriousness of a woman in a mini sombrero and fake mustache. “Five dollars.”

She then rung up the book, burrito, the snacks, the drinks I grabbed from the fridge, and it all came out to about thirty five dollars. I walked out quickly, and tossed a five into the “Tip the Chef” tin. I would have to have words with Finn since I still had at least forty dollars in the envelope. My attention shifting to the book in the bag; I was eager to start looking through the hefty tome as soon as I had the chance to sit down. Something about it felt familiar, and right.

When I got back to the shop, the out to lunch sign was flipped over and Finn and Saoirse were in the break room. Finn was reading some kind of catalog and Saoirse sipping on black tea, I knocked to get their attention.

“Got everything on the list.” I said handing Finn his burrito and handing the various seafood snacks to Saoirse. “Do you want the drinks in the fridge?”

Saoirse answered “No, dear. Just leave them on the table. What’s that bulky thing you got in the bag?”

I showed her after I put the drinks on the table. “Found it in the used books bin over at that weird market Finn sent me to. Five bucks.”

There was something in Saoirse's eyes I could not place as she looked at the book. Almost as if she had recognized it, the look vanished as quickly as I noticed it. As pointless as it was, I tried handing the envelope of money back to Finn. He waved it away and muttered something about being under the distinct impression that he told me to keep it. Saoirse gave me a pointed look when I tried handing it to her. Letting out a sigh, I tucked the book under my arm and made my way to the front desk to read my new purchase away from the awkward conversation involving one Taylor Hebert’s arrival at the shop earlier that was no doubt going to occur.

I. Am. Not. Smitten. On. The. Girl. Next. Door.

Sitting at the front desk, I tore the shrink wrapping off the book and got to reading. The _Encyclopedia Fabula_ had no copyright information, no publishing information, and didn’t have any information on when it was written, or who the author was. Despite the worn leather cover and slightly frayed pages, the binding was in immaculate condition and from my flip through, no pages were damaged or missing. With every turn of the page, a faint hint of fresh grass and clover accompanied the scent of old book. When I began to read it from the beginning I noticed that there was no foreword or introduction, nor was there a table of contents. Already it was failing to live up to its name of “Annotated Guide”

It was around the seventh page that I had noticed that this book was clearly someone’s idea of a prank. If a page wasn’t blank, or just lorem ipsum, then it was filled with nonsense pictograms and sigils. At least the cover looks nice and would make a good addition to a future collection of strange books to put on a bookshelf. Closing the book, I looked out the window to gaze at the few passersby, my eye catching something black with a streak of white appearing closer than my focus. I looked down to find the same damn cat I saw on the Hebert’s roof the other night. Sitting there, staring at me with those far too intelligent violet eyes. It almost looked like the damn thing was smirking at me. There was only so long I could stare at it before I had to blink, and when my eyes opened again the cat was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to some shakeups at work IRL, i've been mighty tired and have not been able to focus as much of my time on the. I know some people are concerned about the pacing and I am working on that, I'd like to thank my friend V for helping out and giving me advice. THANKS V YOU'RE RAD AS FUCK! Expect 1.6 to be out by tomorrow at the earliest and this coming Wednesday at the latest. Thanks to all the people still reading, have a good one. Also, expect to see more of Donnie and The Champion's District in future.


	7. Paralog - Taylor Hebert - 12/28/10

Taylor

12/28/2010, 5:30 PM

To say that the office desktop at home was a dinosaur would be an insult to dinosaurs. It was a middle of the road machine for its day back in 1995 and it amazes me that it is still chugging along this far into the new millennium. Even if our internet was modern in that it was no longer dial up, the state of this machine meant that it would still take eons to load up all but the most basic HTML web pages and would load pages up bit by bit over the course of ten minutes at the fastest, making my what I was currently doing a much more tedious process. To pass the time, I’ve been reflecting on the list Saoirse gave me, on the music shop, and on that strange shopping area that I had never once heard of in all my life living here. Especially the latter, The Champion’s District is nowhere near the places that are one hundred percent “safe” in this town like the Financial District or near the PRT building, and yet it looks untouched. There’s nobody with gang colors running around, the place looks new, it isn’t crawling with homeless, there’s no graffiti, it isn’t like the boardwalk where there’s goons keeping the peace. It’s just a nice shopping center…

...in the middle of an area that is filled with graffiti, people walking in open gang colors, dilapidated buildings, homeless camps, and graffiti…

Yeah, something is weird about that place. The last page I need to print is almost done loading at least.

I decided to read the list that Saoirse gave me at the music shop for the umpteenth time;

Tools, tool belt, any book about the Old West, company. That last one was circled and under it was a winking smiley face doodle. I get the strangest feeling that Saoirse’s trying to be a meddling grandmother and get her grandson to meet some nice girl. I should give Gran a call, I haven’t spoken to her since Mom’s funeral…

Enough of that. I’ll give her a call one of these days, see how she’s been.

Back to the subject of one Saoirse McCullough; It’d be adorable if it wasn’t so misplaced, I don’t think Walter would be into girls like me and I’m not completely sold on him either. Even if his attempts at helping are kind of endearing in hindsight. What he said at the music store didn’t sit right with me either.

Who responds to someone opening up by saying “Sorry to hear that”?

That dejected look on his face as he said it was weird too. Was he going through some stuff back in wherever he came from? That scar on his chest, the one right where his heart should be, did that have something to do with it?

I should just ask him to be honest, straight from the horse’s mouth. Oh, the page is done loading.

Page number five of my research on the pricing of multi-tools. Rather than getting one tool I’ll just get him one that has a bunch. Saoirse had said there was a shop for every one of the items on the list in The Champion’s District, except for the last one of course. With the last page printing, I started to turn the computer off and organize the pages when Dad came in through the front door with a twenty four pack of PBR, looking paler and with dark circles around his eyes. At least he’s home more or less on time tonight.

I don’t know what’s going on, but he has been looking significantly worse lately. He’s been drinking more, working later whenever he can, there is something really wrong with him. I want to say something to him, to tell him to please talk with someone about it, but that would be rich coming from me. Hell, even if I could say something to him, what would I say? What should I say?

He goes to put the case of beer into the fridge, and comes back with an accordion folder filled with papers and sits on the couch with the folder on the coffee table.

“Bringing work home with you?” I don’t know why I asked that out loud, not like it isn’t obvious

Dad didn’t even look up as he piled the papers all over the table and answered “I’ve been slipping at work, need to catch up.”

I doubt that, he’s been working overtime every chance he gets. I know it wouldn’t help, but I have to ask him.

“Do you think that bringing work home with you will help all that much?”

“The dockworkers need me.”

Wow. Without missing a beat. I have never heard him talk to me like that, never so bluntly, never so quick with an answer like that. No wonder he never told me about the McCullough’s finding the flute. He probably fucking forgot and threw himself back into his work!

I took my research and went back up to my room. I was done down here.

I didn’t slam the door to my room, I wasn’t that angry, but I was damn well getting there. I tried to focus on getting Walt’s gift, sifting through the pages trying to get a decent price range. Anything to take my mind of my dad getting worse. Anything to take my mind off of knowing that another reason why Dad probably didn’t say anything is because _I_ didn’t say anything about the flute in the first place. I haven’t said anything to him about anything the past two years, why would he do the same?

I got into bed and hugged mom’s flute till sleep took me…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit I cut from 1.5 that I couldn't really fit anywhere but still wanted to put out there. I'm debating weather or not to call interludes Paralogs, figured i'd start with this one. Lemme know if you guys like it or not and I'll edit the first one to be a Paralog instead of an Interlude and will continue with the naming convention.


	8. Origin 1.6

Walt

12/28/2010, 9:33 PM

To say that I was concerned over a cat would be an understatement. I had been looking out of the corner of my eyes every now and then thinking I’d catch a glimpse of that weird animal. Jumping at shadows, or someone in a dark shirt walking past the window. No one else came into the store since I arrived, Finn and Saoirse were still going over paperwork in the back room, occasionally laughing along with some joke I didn’t hear, while I was becoming a Paranoiac in the storefront. Nothing I had done, from trying to read the nonsense book I bought, organizing the inventory, counting the till, making sure whatever backstock could be moved up front got moved up front, nothing was able to fully draw my mind away from the cat. To say that this was uncharacteristic of me would be an understatement. Never would I have thought to be so troubled over the appearance of a strangely, colored in eye and in coat, cat. I have seen many strange animals, growing up on a fairly isolated ranch deep in rural Wyoming you see odd things. This cat, something in my instincts is telling me that this cat is very much Not Normal, possibly even Not Right.

Make no mistake, what I was feeling was not fear. I have only ever been afraid once and that was under very extenuating circumstances. This was a state of heightened awareness, not like how some hippy on hallucinogens would describe it, but in the way of knowing that something was out of place and being aware of it for the first time. It didn’t help that I _knew_ that both times I had seen this cat, that it was deliberately looking at me, it was looking into my eyes. I don’t know how I would explain it, I just knew it.

Luckily, it was closing time. My grandparents showed me, yet again, the nightly routine of closing everything up. Turning the alarm on, cutting the lights, rolling down the shutters, locking them up. Going out to the loading bay to make sure the rear access is locked up. Proper work procedure had a way of easing my tensions, both physical and mental. Even something as low effort as closing up. Once everything was said and done, we piled into the family car and were on our way back home.

Normally, I wouldn’t say anything on the car ride home. I had nothing to add to the majority of my grandparents’ conversations and was not comfortable asking any questions. Tonight, I decided it was time to ask about my parents. I did not want to, but anything else would just have me thinking about that damned cat.

We were at a stoplight when I finally asked;

“What was Mother like?”

It took every ounce of my will to be able to utter those four words. It was not fear that held me back. It was simply, a reluctance to know. I figured, if I never knew what either of my parents were like then I’d never disappoint myself trying to live up to them or disappoint myself living them down. A foolish sentiment, but one that made sense to ten year old me who swore to himself that he would not ever need to know about them. Apparently all it took to go against that was moving to the east coast and seeing a strange cat. Who knew?

Saoirse turned her head towards me and smiled, Finn laughed warmly as he made sure his eyes were on the road ahead. Finn was the one to speak first.

“Well, Doreen was something else, that’s for sure. Ever since she was able to walk and talk, she’d been this precocious bundle of mirth. Always curious about people, always learning, always trying to help in her subtle way.”

Saoirse chimed in; “She especially lit up when she was pregnant with you, dear. It was one of the few times we had seen her smile so wide and laugh so loud. Your mother was under the impression that she would be unable to have children, your grandfather and I never understood why, she just had this certainty that she would never bear children. Finding out she was pregnant with you was the first time we had ever seen her that happy.”

On this I need elaboration. “Was she normally unhappy? Did something happen that changed her from this ‘mirth’ she had in her early childhood?”

Saoirse shook her head. “No, dear. It was just rare to see her brimming with joy. Normally she would just have this look about her as if she had seen it all and was amused at seeing it again. She was the same way when she introduced your father to us.”

Finn chuckled. “That was a sight to behold. It was just after your mother graduated high school and was picking out some things for her college dorm room. She spots your father testing a chair right across from us, goes over and sits on his lap, wraps her arms around him and says; ‘You’re my man.’ and gave him a peck on the cheek.”

Saoirse continued. “Your father’s face went redder than a beet, he tried to cover it up by tipping his hat down and acting like he was John Wayne. He said to her-”

Saoirse took on what I assume was an approximation of his facial mannerisms and voice before continuing

“-he says to her ‘Well no shit darlin’ where have you been all this life of ours?’ and then she stole the hat off his head. Only time I recall your father ever being caught off guard. We asked your mother if she had met this young man before, and she shook her head. ‘Not in this life’ she said. He had introduced himself to us and her the first time ever in that store. They were together ever since. You would have thought they had known each other all their lives though with how they got on after.”

Odd. Very odd.

“Don’t get the wrong idea Walt.” Finn had said. “We thought it mighty strange that Doreen would just walk up to some random man and declare someone ‘her man’ and give him a kiss. We had even thought about bringing it to the authorities, thinking it had something to do with something unnatural. To our surprise, your mother was the one who wore the pants in that relationship. Eric Connolly did everything for your mother and later you when your mother was carrying you.”

At the further mention of Father, Finn and Saoirse’s joyful faces turned a bit sour. I needed to know why.

“Father? What was he like?” I legitimately dreaded the answer.

The pause and false starts my grandparents held did not help either. Two turns, three stop lights, and one detour due to a PRT traffic blockade was how long it would be before Finn finally answered my question.

“Your father was…” he started “Well, let’s just say if he didn’t treat your mother, grandmother, and myself with nothing but love and respect we would have not approved of him. Eric Connolly was as cuddly as a rabid cactus, more ornery than a mule, and six times as stubborn. He did not like people all that much, and would go out of his way to not speak if he could help it. He very rarely smiled and when he did it was always wrong. In fact, the only time your grandmother and I had ever seen him smile without any hint of cruelty or ire was when your mother was around. She had a way of bringing the best out of him, making sure that if he did fight someone they had it coming. Though, he was always quick to help out others in need. Just was a right jackass about it. I remember one time he helped a man who had been beaten up by three other men and left in an alley, the thugs who did it were still there further down the way. Your father walked over to the beaten man and he asked him a question-”

Finn paused, trying to recall it as if it were on the tip of his tongue.

“Those assholes took something of yours. You gonna just lay there and let them take it? Or are you gonna take back what’s yours?” Saoirse supplied, with a somewhat horrified look on her face as she said it.

“Yes, that’s what he said.” Finn said with a deep sigh. “Then the man just got up, spat out the blood in his mouth, and your father walked with him to the men that left him lying in that alley and he watched as that beaten man cold clocked one of them, and then started beating the ever loving shit out of another. Before the third could do anything, your father put the last thug into a choke hold until the man was unconscious. After that, they got back the man’s wallet, left those thugs in the gutter, and dipped into the bar we had just walked out of to buy him a round.”

Finn scoffed and shook his head. “Soon as he paid for the beer, your father came out with that smirk of his and apologized for the delay. Seems he’d met his friends one of two ways; helping them fight back against bigger odds or in bar fights he would start. Anyone he didn’t consider friend or family was nothing to him, he did not believe in courtesy, respect, or civility to anyone not friend or family. Dare I say it, if your mother was a Beauty, then your father was most certainly a Beast.”

I do not think any boy wants to hear that his father was particularly abrasive and violent person. I shouldn’t be surprised, it seems like he took after Grandfather greatly with that description. I suppose I should focus on Mother being a positive influence on Father and thank god that the only things I inherited from Father were his looks, his lack of enthusiasm for speaking, and his need to right wrongs in front of him. That’s right Walter, think positively.

Go from being almost paranoid about a strange cat to concerns over my Father. This day is just cutting out to be distressing for me isn’t it?

Only the sounds of the car going down the road could be heard in the car. I was at a loss for words, for once not by choice. Saoirse just reached her hand back to take mine. I obliged her, she gave my hand a comforting squeeze. Normally I’d be averse to physical contact, but for once I welcomed it.

“You know-” she started “-a certain someone came by the store today~”

Oh god. No. Please no. Not now. I do not need this.

I looked up in horror to see, The Look.

“Taylor came by.”

I am aware Saoirse, I spoke with her on the way out. Finn helpfully, spoke up

“You know, the Hebert’s front step is in dire need of a replacement…”

Thank you Finn, the prospect of work will ease my mind and the prospect of me helping out the Hebert’s will feed Saoirse’s flight of fancy. Now all I had to do was get the things I’d need to replace said step.

Taylor

12/29/2010, 10:34 AM

Once again, I find myself at the entrance to this strange shopping center, this time about to go further in then I have ever gone before. I don’t know why I’m thinking of this as if I’m about to go into the mines of Moria but it seems appropriate.

I walked past McCullough’s Music Shoppe and Instrument Repair, as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. I didn’t want to see Walt just yet, best to get his gift then give it to him, then we can go on to just have awkward morning conversations and not talk about our school lives. Sounds like a plan.

The storefronts I looked at as I wandered further into The Champion’s District were rather eclectic and not a single chain or franchise among them with names like Bachman’s Book Shop, Jamieson Apothecary, Wyrd Science Supply, Diggin’ It Oddities & Antiquities, Gunnar the Gumshoe’s Shoes and Gum, the names seemed to be deliberately trying to one up each other in how strange or specific they were. Luckily that stopped as soon as I stepped out into the big courtyard, there was a big tree in the center with benches all around it, a few lamp posts here and there, and plenty of far more mundane storefronts along with a few eateries and cafes. Right by the main shopping hall exit was a large map, with a list of the stores in the area. According to the map there were a couple of branching paths that led from this courtyard out to some out of the way stores, one of which held the only thing under the “Hardware and Smithing” section of the index. I committed the route to memory and made my way into the somewhat crooked pathway deeper in to The Champion’s district.

The path took odd turns and curves here and there, and the daylight seemed to struggle to reach into the pathway with the only light really keeping the cobblestone pavers visible being the store lights coming from the odd shops that dotted the alley. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I had reached it.

Stuck into a strange dip of the ground, stacked on top of each other were two stores; On the ground floor was a tattoo parlor with a sign simply saying “Reeve’s” and with a smaller neon sign with an arrow pointing to a staircase leading down into a basement shop saying “Nuts N’ Bolts”

This was the place. I walked down the steps and opened the door, hearing a small bell chime as I walked in. The store is darker than I thought it’d be, with no windows and nothing but hanging incandescent bulbs that seemed days from going out to light the store poorly casting shadows that made the store seem bigger than it more than likely was. Looking further in to the store, there were tall shelves that reached the ceiling that just seemed to go on forever, blocking the view of anyone trying to get a fell for how big the store was. To my right was a counter and old register, the kind you’d have seen in the 50’s rather than anything closely resembling anything modern. No bell, no sign saying “Out to lunch” nothing.

I heard accented muttering down the hall in front of me, heavily accented. As the voice got closer, I saw its source; a really short man with a thick beard, rubbing his bald head and looking over something on a clipboard.

“Um, hello?” I said, trying to get the man’s attention.

The man’s head shot up and he gave me a scowl, his voice was filled with grit and growl “Watcha’ wan’ girlie? I ain’t got all day.”

I let out a sigh before speaking. “I was wondering if you carried multi-tools? I have this list here. I was wondering if you carried any of them?”

I tried handing him the list and he just snatched it out of my hand, I got a look at the name tag pinned to his overalls, it read “Nabbi”

Nabbi crumpled up my list and tossed it behind him, landing dead center into an open trash bin by the counter. Before I could tell him off for that he held up a hand and spoke

“You don’t wan’ any of that shit, I have far better.” he waved me over as he hobbled down the hall.

I followed the grumpy bastard to further in to the store, the wood paneled floors seemed to have a slight incline and the store itself just seemed to keep going. Eventually we came to a stop in front of a display case with some really nice looking multi-tools, with some kind of cubbie set up, each filled with boxes.

Nabbi cleared his throat and spoke “Made everythin’ in this shop with my own two fuckin’ hands. Got me a little foundry and forge in the backyard to do it. You won’t find anything in this store that I didn’ make meself.”

I looked at the case and then to the boxes. There wasn’t any price tags. “How much for this middle one here?”

Nabbi scoffed and crossed his arms “Nothin’ here gotta set price. You wants it. You gotta haggle for it.”

That sounded ridiculous, and I told him. He just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Take it or fuckin’ leave it stelpa.”

What the hell is a stelpa?

Either way, if this is how the grumpy bastard wanted to play then I may as well play along.

“Twenty bucks” I started, he just scoffed

“Eighty.”

“Thirty four”

“Seventy nine” he countered, looking at his nails

“Fourty and you gift wrap it, you bald bastard”

My eyes widened as I said that, I do not know why, but I said it. Nabbi looked like he was surprised I insulted him to his face.

“Well, stelpa’s got bite. Fifty and you can have your gift wrap.”

I took a quick breath and tried to stand as straight as possible as I looked Nabbi in the eye

“Fourty and I’ll wrap the damn thing myself.”

Nabbi tossed his clipboard behind him and clapped his hands “Sold! To the bespectacled stelpa with the attitude!”

He chuckled and grabbed a box from the middle row

“Come on kid, let me ring you up.”

The trip back to the front of the store was a hell of a lot quicker than the trip to the mutli-tool display, that’s for sure. While he rung me up, his rotary phone next to the register was ringing and there was a loud stamping noise coming from the ceiling. Nabbi angrily grabbed the receiver and shouted into it

“helvíti af þér helvítis álfur, I’m fuckin’ busy!” He ended the call with a slam.

Curiosity got the better of me and I asked him “What was that all about.”

Nabbi scoffed, continued bagging the box, and shot his thumb to the ceiling “Neighbor’s probly wanting me to unfuck his ‘prentice’s mistakes. As usual.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, I just thanked him, took the bag, and walked out of the store. As I got back up to ground level, the door to Reeve’s shot open. A frantic looking guy and a cloud of wispy smoke following him as he ran downstairs to Nuts N’ Bolts. I heard someone from the tattoo parlor shout after him

“Make sure that stunty answers his fucking phone!” with the frantic guy shouting “Yes sir!” in reply.

Yeah, I didn’t want any of that right now and I just kept walking faster. I slowed down as I got towards McCullough’s and looked down at the bag. I hoped that Walt would appreciate it, It wouldn’t be really all that close to what the flute meant to me, but I hoped it’d be enough.

Without any warning, a loud screech of tires and a black blur in front of me made me drop the bag and flinch in surprise. My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked up and saw some guy around my age in a three piece suit that looked more expensive then anything I’ve ever seen in my life, he was riding around some carbon fiber single gear bike and fretting over it and his watch.

“Oh my sweet Pegaso, oh my dear fixie. It’s ok, papa is here to make sure you are still stylish and slick!” he paused and looked up at me “Oh yeah, you alright? Almost hit you, that would have sucked a bit. Would have gotten my suit scuffed or my watch-face scratched, and you’d have gotten hurt too. Probably.”

Oh great, one of _those_ types. Black hair all shiny and slick with over-expensive hair product, brown eyes filled with arrogance, a physique that makes the shallow bimbos swoon, a suit that costs more than what dad makes in a year, a flashy designer watch, and an overpriced bike designed to cater to the idle rich. Pompous, arrogant, asshole.

Couldn’t forget the smile he was giving me, the kind that’d drive all the girls crazy I imagine.

“Look as long as you want.” he said as he struck a pose “It is rare to see a fine and true specimen of masculine beauty like me.”

Ugh, as if. “What the hell are you doing riding your bike so damn fast into a shopping center anyway? Didn’t feel like getting your valet to take it to the bike rack?”

The jerk just chuckled and got back onto his bike, him facing me while leaning on the handlebars “Nope, took a wrong turn and this baby aint got brakes! Allow mine august self to make it up to you.”

What the hell is this idiot on?

He pulled his wallet out of his coat and thumbed out four hundred dollar bills and a slip of laminated paper that had McCullough’s Music’s logo on it.

“I think this should cover the damages. Si?” he said with a smile.

“What the-”

He shoved the bills and laminated slip into my hand before replying

“No. I’d love to stick around and slum it some more, but I have a… thing I’m running a bit late for. Keep the change kopelia. Arrivederci baby!”

Before I could hand him his money back he took off on that bike of his, back out onto the sidewalk and off to god knows where. Nothing I could do about it then, I just put the money and what I could see now is a hundred dollar slip for store credit into my wallet, recovered the bag, and made my way to the music shop door.

I opened it, and was greeted with Saoirse’s smiling face behind the counter.

Donnie Rhodes

12:40 PM

Ha! I lied to that plain, but leggy girl back at the good old CD! I wasn’t late for a thing, I was gonna be early!

I’d be even earlier if it weren’t for force of habit having me do my sick slide break into the CD. Ah well, I got to give a girl a handout for her undoubtedly wonderful transformative shopping trip and I got to strut my stuff for someone who’s been deprived of witnessing my beauty.

Truly I am magnanimous!

Still, riding my brake-less fixie through the sparse crowds of people meandering about the oh so fair city of Brockton by the Bay is such a glorious thrill!

The shocked look on the passersby, the wind blowing through my hair, the sharp drifts I perform on the turns, its all so…

...divine.

Sadly its a short thrill today, with a mighty flourish a skid my bike sideways just in front of my destination; a set of lofts that we’ll be doing the shoot at. Taking my bike inside with me, a quick glance at my wonderful Pegaso watch tells me I have more then enough time to spare. Which means I can fully prepare for today’s shoot. Modeling is definitely more than just standing around looking pretty for the camera’s.

You have to be on your photographer’s wavelength, the wardrobe must be perfectly chosen, and the makeup must be on point! Not to mention working with the location, luckily the location was this shabby looking loft, apropos for the line we’ll be showcasing but still shabby looking.

Taking the freight elevator up to the top floor, I made sure to text the team upstairs that I had arrived. Helps to not interrupt anything going on up there from my personal experience. The modeling scene is a strange and silly place at times I tell you.

Dolly would be the photographer on this shoot, loved working with him. He was one of the few people in this biz that I knew was as he presented himself (a rare occurrence I assure you) and he always knew how to direct models and the set dressers to make the best shots!

He also did not put up with anyone’s shit, not even mine.

As the doors opened, I was greeted with the sight of him going over the models for tonight's shoot with what I assume is Wardrobe. Didn’t know him and until the shoot was done I wouldn’t bother remembering his name or face. I decided to eavesdrop on them, see if I could glean anything juicy

“Our main draw is gonna be Donnie Rhodes the Third. He’s got an Earth-Aleph Brad Pitt thing going on sans the frosted tips.” said Dolly.

Like I would be caught dead with frosted tips.

“I’m getting a bit of Anne Hesche there too.” Wardrobe paused before continuing “Ok did that sound gay?”

Ugh! One of these morons. I haven’t heard anyone say insecure shit like that since ‘02.

Clearing my throat got their attention, and the look on Wardrobe’s fave was priceless. He looked like I was about to smack him.

“Dunno why you’re worried, babe.” I said with a smirk “I don’t think anyone barring those empire boys even care if you’re into sausage or snatch. None of us do.”

I turned my head to Dolly “He new to the scene?”

Dolly chuckled “Yeah, his first gig.”

Wardrobe tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, I was surprised when they told me to bring my best pieces for the shoot. Even more surprised when they called me up and said they’d be using my designs.”

Well we’ll pop your cherry soon babe.

I set my fixie in a corner and left Dolly to it. I grabbed one of the copies of the design sketches for the shoot as I sat in make-up, making sure to greet everyone before I sat of course. To be honest, with all of the excitement over the past few days and with Pops flying in to buy a more permanent residence out here, I needed a refresher on what the shoot was about. I know we were doing urban streetwear from the design sheets but Dolly always had a way of cutting the bull with me.

I got one of the assistants to flag him down and bring him over

“Dolly, remind me why we’re doing this shoot in this shabby loft?”

Dolly leaned against the makeup table and rubbed his temples

“Local style mag that set up this whole thing wants to showcase local talent and go for a more urban feel. Say they want to switch things up and feel out the waters for a new ‘zine.”

Well, I make anything look good. Hell I bet I could make the Derelicte line look good if I felt like it. I could damn well make this DIESEL wannabe stuff look good as well.

“Well, Dolly.” I said to him “It’s at least good to be working with Nessa again.”

Another natural born beauty, both inside and out. Even if her boyfriend is a colossal moron.

When I looked over to Dolly, I saw a look I have come to dread in this biz. The look of a photographer pissed that his carefully constructed shoot was being fucked with.

“Nessa had to cancel on me, which is fair, this is kinda last minute seat of the pants shit.” he started “Apparently her boyfriend finally proposed and they’ve eloped to Hawaii to have their honeymoon.”

Oh. Well good for them. The idiot finally took my advice and popped the damn question, he’s good for her and she is way out of his league. She genuinely loves that dumb bastard too. Still! Nessa is one of the few models in the biz that gets me and I can work with without issue!

“Who’s the replacement?” I ask

Dolly shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Local girl, up and comer. About your age, ginger, got a nice body if you’re into that kind of shit. Emma Barnes.”

Oh great. Gingers.

“Gingers rarely make for smooth shoots, Dolly.” I told him a thousand times before and I have yet to be proven wrong.

It would be another hour or so before this Barnes girl shows up. I was as dissapointed as I thought I would be. Though not for the reasons I thought I would.

Dolly was right, she was in fact a ginger and had a nice body if you were into busty redheads. That beauty was indeed skin deep, if I had to put it into words it would be

As beautiful as the finest china doll and twice as hollow.

To be honest, with that assessment I just tuned out the girl and went along with the shoot as well as I could with such a horrendous partner. No doubt, between my perfect body and her above average looks, Dolly and his post team would make something worthy of being framed and put in an exhibition. I was fairly certain the girl was trying to either seduce me or converse with me, which I ignored and focused on the shoot.

Everything this girl may as well have been nonsense to me, I have no time for such twisted and irreparably broken things. No matter how pretty they are on the surface.

When Mama was still with us, she had noted that I was rather good at reading people and assessing them. Said I would be good in any field I set my mind to. She was right, although I could never read her or Pops.

Praise thee Aphrodite, for the shoot is over and I can be rid of this loathsome girl.

I grabbed my fixie and walked past Ginger as I got on the elevator, sadly the doors close slowly and she managed to board, being sure to fill the beautiful silence with her foul jabbering.

I could not believe that she actually was continuing on with this while I was actively ignoring her.

Even when we reached the ground floor, the damn thing tried to hang off my free arm. Begone vile thing, we have no need of you here!

“Vaffanculo.” I muttered as I wrenched my arm away from her

“That mean beautiful in whatever language you’re speaking, hot stuff?” she babbled

I got on my bike and looked her dead in those dim eyes of hers. “It means fuck you, and it’s Italian.”

I relished the look of utter shock that her feminine wiles had failed her and sped off towards the penthouse, thinking to more positive things such as Pops’ near arrival.

Walt

6:19 PM

With one final brushstroke, the wood stain is finally done. Took me all day to do it, but the Hebert’s now no longer need to skip a step when walking into their home. It took me some trial and error, but I somehow managed to match the stain with the rest of the wood on the porch. A fine job if I say so.

Nobody was home when I had started around ten, I figured that Mr Hebert would be at work since it was the middle of the week, but I hadn’t seen Taylor around. I doubt it’d be for school, winter break is still on. Ah well, guess it’ll be yet another surprise for her. Might be for Mr Hebert now that I think on it, Finn did say he gave Mr Hebert a call…

Neither here nor there and nothing to do but wait on the stain to dry.

Seeing Finn and Saoirse coming down the road was a sure surprise, guess they must have closed up early. Even bigger surprise was seeing someone in their backseat. When they pulled into the driveway, I saw that it was Taylor. She came out of the car and her eyes went a little wide when she saw me, she had a plastic bag with something bulky in it.

Finn waved at me and announced “Look who we found on our way back from work!”

Taylor looked a bit bashful at the attention, it was cute.

I just waved, I guess I looked a bit foolish. Finn and Taylor walked towards me and I met them at the Hebert’s driveway, Finn walked past me to get the tools I was going to recover and leaving Taylor to talk. Finn, if it weren’t for the rules of hospitality I would neglect to put sugar in your coffee.

“Hey.” she said

“Hey, yourself.” I replied.

Finn stopped to speak with the bucket full of tools and supplies in one hand “Taylor came by looking for you and we figured we’d give her a ride home before your grandmother and I went out to catch the picture show.”

OK? You closed up early to give our neighbor a ride and for you and Saoirse to go on a date? I smell shenanigans.

Finn patted me on the shoulder and went on to put the tools in the garage and hop back into the car with Saoirse. “You kids have fun now!” he shouted as he and Saoirse waved.

With that, they went off to catch that “picture show” leaving Taylor and I standing in her driveway.

Awkward silences, truly you are a constant companion in this city. I thank you for your companionship.

Taylor looked over to the still drying porch step

“Finn told me you were replacing the rotten step, I honestly didn’t believe it when he told me”

“Yeah, noticed the state of it when I delivered that flute of yours. Figured if I had the means to, I’d replace it. Felt right.”

Taylor sighed wistfully and looked back to me “I honestly thought it would stay like that forever.”

“So.” Taylor finally said after a beat or so “I got you this.”

she handed me the box within the bag before continuing.

“I figured, since you got me something for Christmas I should return the favor. It’s not much but I figured you’d like it.”

Curiosity gripped me as I opened the plain box, the contents; a beautifully made multi-tool. I tested it out, pulling the components out, the knife was a useful length for damn near any occasion and was the best made bit in my opinion. I tested the sharpness against the sparse hair on my arm, it was sharp enough. Little things like exploring a new tool made life worth living, simple pleasures always meant so much to me. Closing the tool and pocketing it, she giggled when I looked up to thank her.

“You looked like a kid who just got the best toy ever for Christmas.”

I tipped my hat down to hide my face, trying to ignore the sudden heat.

A sudden screech of tires and door slam got me to look back up, Mr Hebert had arrived home.

Taylor gasped out “Dad?”

He was rather angry from the look of things, he had an accordion folder stuffed to the brim haphazardly with papers and rather foul look on his face. He looked paler than the last time I saw him, he stopped at the porch and looked rather angry at my handiwork.

“What the hell is this?”

I guess Finn neglected to call him, or he had forgotten the call in his angered state. Taylor walked over to him.

“Walt came by and replaced the step.” She paused for a bit taking in the state of him “What happened, why are you home so early?”

Mr Hebert growled and bristled before replying “Kurt told me to go home, said I was working too damn hard. Like he can tell me a damn thing…”

Mr. Hebert stopped and looked at me, his eyes filled with recognition and hatred.

“Taylor.” he said. “Get in the damn house.”

Taylor’s face went through emotions ranging from shock, anger, and then finally, grim acceptance. She gave me a look and a wave before going inside, looking defeated. Mr. Hebert marched up to me, I smelt a little bit of alcohol on his breath as he got close.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time.” he said “What the fuck are you thinking, being alone with **my** daughter, fixing **my** porch step?”

I steeled myself before speaking, I don’t know why but I knew that Mr Hebert was not acting himself.

“Sir, I noticed one of your porch steps was nearly rotten through, last I was over. I felt like helping a neighbor out and replacing it. My grandfather said he called you.”

Something inky and black darted out of the corner of my eye, I dared not break focus on Mr Hebert’s face to see it. Mr Hebert got closer, the scent of cheap beer on his breath.

“What the hell are you doing coming to **my** house, boy?”

What? He should know, Finn talked to him.

“I was delivering the flute sir.” I said to him, hopefully getting the tone right for polite acquiescence

The inky black thing darted around some more and Mr. Hebert’s face became wracked with confusion.

“Wha? When? When did that…” He began to trail off and I tried to catch sight of the black thing

As my gaze wandered, I felt Mr Hebert grab my chin and made sure I was looking at him.

“Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you boy.”

Now usually when someone tries to pull this with me I would be defiant and ready to come to blows. Something about this was concerning, and it was rather apparent on my face.

“Yes sir.” Was all I said

“Your dad was a violent and evil bastard, kid.” He said with a spit. “Anything he made is rotten, and better stay the fuck away from **my** daughter. You got that?”

“Sir. I have no ill or untoward intentions towards your daughter.” I answered truthfully “I just thought I’d help out a neighbor and saw a wrong that needed righting. No more, no less.”

I finally caught sight of the black thing! It looked like a faded mass of swirling ink, resembling the late Mrs. Hebert, it flowed around him leaning in to whisper in Mr Hebert’s ear.

“ _He lies…_ ” I heard it whisper

Mr Hebert grabbed me by the throat and drew me close before speaking

“Listen here, you are never to set foot one fucking inch on **my** property line, you are not to speak or look at **my** daughter, you hear me?” The scent of cheap beer was getting stronger the more he spoke “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll crawl back to whatever hole your daddy crawled out of.”

As Mr Hebert’s grip tightened around me, I saw “Not Mrs. Hebert” caress Mr Hebert’s neck like a lover, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He let go of my neck, and I fell onto the sidewalk, Mr Hebert just walked away. I saw that damned black thing suck something bright out of his ear as he marched into the house. I could only stare in shock.

I gripped the multi-tool Taylor gave me and swore to myself that I would find out what that thing was, and what it was doing to Mr Hebert. I swore to myself that I would stop it, come hel or high-water.

I got up, dusted myself off and marched into my house, I needed to prepare, even if I didn’t know how.

I reached my room and walked in, upon my bed was the _Encyclopedia Fabula_ with that cat from the past couple days sitting on my bed, one paw resting on the book.

It smiled and locked eyes with me before saying

“Well now, it looks like you’re going to need some help with this one, boyo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took me a bit. But here it is. This marks the moment were things are gonna get into the Scion side of things. Special thanks to coca-cola and Full Throttle Enegy drink for fueling my madness. I await your reactions with gusto, have a wonderful week


	9. Origin 1.7

Walt

12/29/2010, 6:39 PM

There is a cat on my bed speaking to me in English, with a Bostonian accent.

The cat. Just talked. To me. In a Bostonian accent.

The cat, that I was foolishly worrying about prior to this mess, is talking to me.

In a Bostonion. Accent.

Of all things.

…

OK. Let’s do this calmly and quietly, Walter.

I took a seat in my office chair, bringing my hand up to rub my temples.

“So, what is your name and why can you talk?” I did my best not to come off as rude, but I doubt that anyone would’ve taken it any other way.

The cat tilted his head before answering, I couldn’t tell if he were amused or annoyed.

“I am Evian. I am one of the Sidhe.” he says “A Cait Sidhe to be precise.”

If I recall correctly, Sidhe is another word for fairy, can’t for the life of me say what a Cait Sidhe is.

“OK then, why are you here?” I ask

The cat, Evian, stretched out and scratched behind his ear before lazily answering “I believe I’ve already said that.”

Not what I meant, cat. “I’ll ask again; why are you here, cat?”

Evian hummed and leapt in to my lap “Scritches first, then explanation. More like your pa then I thought...”

This fairy cat knew my father? That’s another question he owes me. With no other choice, I pet this annoying talking cat and made sure to scratch his ears, all the while contemplating shaking him like a rag-doll and demanding he answer me. Eventually, the cat was sufficiently relaxed and spoke up from his position on my lap.

“Not bad for someone who’s never had a lap pet before. Now, to elaborate on why I’m here; I was sent here by your ma. Now before you start saying ‘She’s dead though’ the situation is a little more complicated then that and let’s leave it at that for now. Either way, I’m here to give you a kick in the right direction, seeing as how you got yourself into a situation a little above your weight class at the moment. What that entails; I’m here to put you on the right track and help you find the tools you will need to undertake this endeavor. I ain’t here to hold your hand, Nothing More.”

I stopped petting and scratching, the strange cat whined a bit at that.

“You know what’s making Mr. Hebert act that way?” I asked the cat

“I know how you can find out for yourself.” he replied coyly

That was it, I moved the cat to make it meet my eyes “Cut the shit. Speak plainly, none of this dancing around questions. Now, cat.”

The cat rolls his eyes before looking into mine and replying “That book. It chose you, and it will help you find the answers you seek. But, the book can’t be read without a certain something and you don’t quite have it yet.”

“How can that book help? It’s just empty pages and nonsense.” I asked

“The title should have clued you in, and don’t you know that things are rarely as they seem on the surface?”

The irony that a talking cat was saying this was not lost on me.

Evian wriggled out of my grasp and did something that would stick with me for the rest of my days, he contorted himself in an odd manner as to make himself bipedal and upright, his top paws growing some facsimile of opposable thumb. The cat reached behind himself and pulled a wax seal envelope from...somewhere.

“Here you go, open it up and read it wicked quick, alright kid?” he said as he handed me the envelope.

On a closer inspection, the wax seal was that of a rose and crossing revolvers. Not wanting to ruin the seal, I took the multi-tool Taylor gave me and cut under the wax, I made sure to remove it from the envelope and slide it on to my desk. The contents of the envelope were a polaroid photo of an Airstream trailer, parked in the clearing of a dense wood, and a letter. I opened the letter and read it aloud

“The Atelier of Doreen McCullough is located within the Airstream trailer parked at-”

I had finished reading the letter in my head before reading it aloud and once I had done so, the photo, envelope, and letter burnt to nothing with smokeless fire. Only the wax seal I had left on the desk was left.

While I could not think of, speak, or if I had the materials to, write it. I knew exactly where this “Atelier” was.

“What just happened?” I demanded of the cat

The cat walked over to my closet and shushed me “No time for that kid, we gotta go to your mom’s trailer and do some prep-work. Make sure to bring the book.”

While I was loathe to admit it, the cat was right. No time for dawdling. I hadn’t filled my backpack with school supplies yet, and there was nothing impeding me from putting the book inside it. I slung the pack on and looked down at the cat.

“So how are we getting there, cat?” I asked “I don’t even think this trailer is in the state.”

Evian chuckled “Ain’t that the understatement of the century, either way the same way I got here from my place; shortcut!”

I watched the cat open up my closet and hop up to flick the light switch, and pointed a specific wood panel in the floor.

“Alright kid, you got that multi-tool, and you probably got a shim or something on it.”

I did.

“Stick it right here” he pointed out a crack “and lift it up”

I did so, and under the wood panel was a compartment. Inside the compartment was a palm sized smooth black stone with a swooping sigil carved in to it along with that odd text associated with the Old Norse curving under it.

“ᛊᚨᚠᛖ ᛏᚱᚨᚢᛖᛚᛊ”

Evian squatted down and pointed to the stone. “Alright, now listen close and listen good. Whilst touching the stone and thinking of the trailer from the photo, say ‘Taistel’. Got it?”

I nodded my head, he walked behind me and crawled up my back. “Go for it kid.”

I hesitated. This could be me walking face first into something I can’t fight my way out of. From what little I have read, and even littler that I remembered, one should never trust fairies. They don’t think like normal folk do, but then again I ain’t exactly normal apparently. I held on to the multi-tool tightly, touched the stone and said it

“Taistel”

As soon as the word left my lips, I knew what it was like being able to fit through the eye of a needle and then regain my proper shape. As soon as I landed, I expelled the contents of the day’s sparse meals on to the grass of the grove, it continued till even my bile was emptied. That damned cat laughed the whole time

“Ah, you never forget your first time.”

Be lucky I feel animals above physical abuse, cat.

Once my stomach had settled and regained the strength, I took in the sight before me. The trees that circled the clearing were oppressively tall, casting shadows straight from a child’s most frightening nightmare. Strangely, the tops of the trees were alight with a strange glow, I made out shapes within that light, the kind of things that I heard young children speak of when in the midst of an explosion of imagination. I could only say that this light was imagination made manifest. The clearing itself was lit as if the noonday sun was shining down on it, illuminating it completely. The grass of the clearing was soft to the point of feeling downy, and was littered with small patches of flowers of varying kinds, all of which had coloration and patterns that couldn’t ever occur naturally. The only flower I knew the name of were roses, and there were many there, the ones that stood out the most were a deep blue with petals that ended in a red the shade of freshly spilled blood.

I looked over to the walking cat, and looked him in his violet eyes. “What is this place?”

Evian walked over to me and smoothed out the wrinkles on my shoulders and spoke “This here is a Glade, kid. Your ma’s glade.”

I’d love it if you elaborated, cat.

I walked over to the Airstream, the aluminum siding still pristine and shining as if it had just came off the assembly line. The photo did not properly convey the size of this thing, I was not aware if Airstream made, what looked to me, triple and a half wide trailers but somehow Mother had gotten one and parked it in this odd place. I looked towards the cat before speaking

“This trailer looks pristine for something exposed to the elements for who knows how long.”

“Yeah.” He said shortly “If you’re wondering how long its been since anyone else has been here, the last people to set foot here were Doreen, Eric, and you. You just turned three weeks old at the time.”

I would say that almost fifteen years of being parked in a heavily wooded area exposed to the elements and not showing any sign of degradation of the aluminum was impossible, but I was about to say it to a talking and walking cat in a grove of impossibly colored flowers. Evian continued on;

“That stone that took you here, was a Journeystone. One of your mother’s creations, made it so practitioners of the craft could safely travel from place to place. She also came up with some charms to keep her trailer pristine.” He said with a genuine smile on his face

It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots, but best to get confirmation

“Was Mother a witch of some fashion?”

“Oh, no kid.” Evian replied while beaming with pride “She’s much more than that.”

What the hell does that mean, cat?

“Enough reminiscing.” he continued “Trailer should let you in no problem.”

I opened the trailer door and walked in, feeling the trailer welcome me as if I were family not seen in a long while, Evian following after. The cat walked in and opened his arms wide

“Your ma called this place her Atelier, everything she needed to work her craft was right here.”

He pointed to a section of the trailer where a large steamer trunk and a desk that looked like the lovechild of a hobbyist’s workbench and an altar of some sort.

“That’s where she made the magic happen.” the cat said. “The trunk is where she stored the fruits of her labor that didn’t need refrigeration or freezing.”

Evian went further in to the trailer to grab a stool and dragged it over near the desk. “Alright, this will be the only time I hold your hand. After this is said and done, you’re on your own.”

“Alright, so what do I need to do?” I sighed and gave the driest look I could to the fairy cat and held out my hand “Hands there to hold.”

Evian rolled his eyes and crossed his “arms” before sarcastically laughing

“Easy there smartass.” he pointed to the desk “Place the book on the desk and turn on the light-”

I did so

“-now go over to the fridge and open it.”

Again, I did so

“Now, do you see the big clear decanter with a post-it note saying DO NOT DRINK?”

I did. The decanter was filled with a liquid that was shimmering and swirling black and green.

“Grab it”

I pulled it out and closed the fridge.

“Alright, now here’s the crucial part. Drink it.”

I stopped and shot him a look. The cat smiled and reiterated

“Just drink it.”

I didn’t break eye contact with the infuriating feline “You are aware that you are asking me to drink something that not only is clearly filled with some kind of metallic glitter, but is also clearly labeled ‘DO NOT DRINK’ in bold capital letters?”

Evian nodded “I am aware.”

“You still want me to drink it”

“Yup” little bastard even popped the p

“How is this going to help me find the answers I’m looking for?”

“Drink it and find out.”

Yet again, I must resist the urge to throttle this fucking cat. My ire getting the better of me, I stared into Evian’s eyes, my displeasure with his flippancy and lack of anything resembling help beyond getting me here. I didn’t blink, he did. When he did, he broke eye contact and looked at the floor of the trailer, a sigh escaping from his maw.

“Look, I’m not allowed to go into specifics of why. Only thing I can say is that there’s something keepin’ you from really seeing and drinking that stuff will fix it. You may want to do this over in the bedroom by the by.”

As good as an explanation as I am going to get, it seems. I took the decanter to the rear of the trailer, where the bedroom was separated by sheer curtains. I sat at the foot of the bed, silently praying that this would in fact lead me on the path to save Mr. Hebert from that creature. After steeling myself, I popped the top off the container and took a whiff of the liquid, there was no scent whatsoever. I took a deep breath and began to chug the liquid down. I don’t know how, but the liquid was somehow extremely smooth and very sticky going down my throat, its taste was that of sour, nothing specifically sour, just sour, and gunpowder or at least what the smell of gunpowder turned to taste. The taste wasn’t unbearable at first but became stronger and more disgusting as I kept drinking it. Once I was done, I set the empty decanter on a nightstand and looked over to Evian, still sitting on a stool.

“Vile to the last drop.” I told him “That wasn’t so bad.”

Evian shook his head and said, with a voice as dry as a desert “Wait for it”

I didn’t even get the chance to reply before I felt fire in my veins!

Pain, sudden and more intense than anything I had ever felt in my life, coursed throughout every inch of my body. In my frenzied state of panic, I threw off my coat and shirt thinking that I had caught fire, only to see my skin with intricate runes, circles, and sigls that were bubbling and boiling before sloughing off. It felt as though I were melting from the inside out, I flailed around before falling unconscious.

I came to laying on the bed., surprisingly feeling more refreshed and lighter than I had ever felt in my whole life, it was as if I had been living up to this point with weights strapped to my limbs. I quickly sat up and looked for Evian, quickly finding him still sitting on the stool.

I asked him how long I was unconscious

He replied “Oh, only about five minutes. You were screaming your head off and rolling around like a spaz for fifteen.”

Luckily it didn’t feel all that long.

“What did that drink do to me? What were those black markings that melted off?”

“Those markings were a bit of protection from your ma and pa, they figured if something happened where they couldn’t take care of you this would keep you out of trouble from our end of things. Some of it was broken from what little I saw, right where that scar on your chest is. Explains how you were able to spot me spying on you and how you saw that thing in old Danny boy.”

The cat pointed towards my chest “What happened to make that scar anyway?”

“Got hurt.” All I would or wanted to say on the matter.

The cat shook his head and then nodded his head towards the desk “You should be able to read that book now, hop to it.”

Walking with a spring in my step I never knew I could have I sat at the desk and opened the book, relishing that scent of fresh grass and clover as I cracked the old book open. As the book opened I saw bookmarks, highlighted lines of text, dog eared pages, post-it notes, pen marks circling or crossing out lines of text, and many other annotations appear before my very eyes. As I flipped through the book trying to gauge the ratio of text per page, I realized that it had far too many pages for its size. Hell, I even tested it by grabbing the “last” pages and letting them flip downwards from my grip, I had to stop myself from staring at the seemingly unending cascade of paper.

Without turning to him, I asked Evian “How come I couldn’t see any of this before I drank that thing?”

“The runes and sigils that were tattooed into your skin, they had The Mists woven into them.”

“Elaborate, cat.” I needed to know more

I heard him sigh before replying “Reader’s Digest; magic, the gods, and monsters exist. At some point, the A-Lister gods got together and made The Mists to be a buffer between the mundane and the magical-slash-divine from intermingling too frequently. Nobody knows why, just that one day everything was free to interact and then one day – BOOM – mortals don’t get to interact anymore, many a horny bastard and desperate housewife were saddened by this, but what can you do? The Mists basically are one big force of shiny clouds that pop up and stop the bigger and meaner beasties from wrecking havoc across the world, keeps shit like fairies pulling a Maleficent (yes I watch movies and TV, there isn’t much to do when you’re disguised as a normal cat other than slam rails of catnip and lick your own nuts and ass), or preventing another Zeus from sowing his seed so freely. Thing is it ain’t foolproof and you get the smaller, wilier, and occasionally cuter, but more often sinister, thingies slipping through the cracks and to limit the damage-”

“The apparition bewitching Mr. Hebert is one of those smaller, wilier, and for sure sinister ‘thingies’, I take it?” I interjected

“-First off; rude but you got it in one. Anyway, The Mists basically keep regular mortals from seeing it or the damage it causes. It’s all until something or someone spots it and stops it, sadly the people who would normally do that are considered bat-shit insane by some and completely retarded by others.”

I was amazed that he did that so quickly and all in one breath, the cat took another deep breath before resuming his explanation while I idly flipped through the book.

“So! You get situations like the one you have found yourself in, where someone who has never encountered the supernatural has to step in and solve the problem or Bad Things happen. The kind of shit scary campfire stories, urban legends, and unsolved mysteries are made of. Yeah, it ain’t a foolproof system and it’s bigger and meaner shit is coming out every day-”

“Is that where the Endbringers, Parahumans, and those monster capes come from?” I interrupted again, ceasing my page flipping.

“-Again; rude, second; no. Nobody on our end seems to know, or at least nobody I’ve talked to. A lotta folk on our end of things blame ‘em for the state of the world and to be completely honest I am one of them. Shit was bad before, but those bastards managed to fuck all three holes at once my friend-”

Interesting, Parahumans do not come from a Paranormal source then. Or at least of the arcane variety.

“-Getting back on track; bigger and meaner shit is coming through lately and there’s a lot of noise coming from up top, the big dogs are barking, and this cat is worried. Hell, I work for a pair and they don’t tell me shit! I shouldn’t have admitted that last part…”

No, yet more things you’re hiding from me, cat. Be lucky that I still need your help.

“OK! Long story short; big shit is coming, a lot of us don’t know what, and the only reason why the rest of the world aint seein fairies, goblins (real ones, not what ever Nilly-bo-billy makes in Ellisburg), and oh so loveable Cait Sith on the nightly news or in a PRT lockup somewhere is The Mists. Which your ma and pa, for their own reasons, wove into magical protections, and then put those into your skin.”

I suppose to protect me from those things slipping through the cracks.

Evian continued “Alright, since the thing messing with Danny boy ain’t your average beastie that could be bested by ballistic, beating, or basic banishment, I have to step in and give you that kick in the right direction. That swig you took that let you read that book, me showing you how to get here, and finally what I am about to tell you are all that kick. No more babysitting, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, so that book chose you, and before you even ask; yes it can do that, I’m fairly certain it is alive and sapient or whatever the term is. Your ma was the previous owner of that book and she had an eye out for it for…” Evian hummed and made an odd sound before continuing “...let’s just say a long ass time and leave it at that, but she was by no means the go-GIRL to have it fall in to their life and as evidence by you, will not be the last. The book is really damn old and has been in the hands of many a scholar, hunter, archivist, and any other ‘ist’ with an interest in the paranormal and it encourages it’s owners to add their own color commentary to its entries, nobody knows who wrote it, nobody knows why. I was around when your ma had it and she explained to me how the damn thing works; All you have to do is address the book vocally while tossing out keywords, like for instance-”

I looked down at the book and spoke “Inky and or swirling black, takes form of loved one, effects the mind”

I heard what I assumed was the cat’s attempt at clapping as the book snapped open and began flying through its own pages, alphabetized tabs appeared along the edge of the pages and the blank pages before me became filled with swirling inky lines before straightening into an arrow that would blink and bold text saying “Here you go, go nuts. Glad to meet you.”

The cat neglected to mention the book being able to converse. I thanked the book as I turned the page and “don’t mention it” appeared along the margins. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for, almost every entry prior to it did not fit in anything but the vaguest sense. The particular creature I was looking for was an Algean. The “official” text of the book went as follows;

Named for the Greek daimones of pain and suffering, an Algean is a type of Dream Eater that invades the sleeping minds of those who have recently gone through physical or emotional trauma, torments them in their dreams over a period of years to drain the life essence from their victims. Algeans can influence their hosts through this process and push them to isolate themselves from friends and family, focus on tasks that would accomplish nothing but inflict more stress and self isolation of the host, and once the victim is drained low enough, push the host to commit horrendous acts upon their closest friends and family so that the Algean can find a new host, this process leaves its hosts almost completely drained of their soul, and the weight of all the acts they have committed while under the creature’s influence leaves the now former host with only thoughts of suicide to end their own suffering.

The annotations left by previous owners of the book were varied, written in various languages that the book translated as I read them, and those that deigned to sign their annotations dated as far back as 1203. The ones that stood out me, were the following;

These bastards can’t be hurt in the physical world. I tried to reach out and grab it’s throat while tailing its host, and my hand just went right through it. Don’t matter what you put on your hand; silver, iron, lead, obsidian, nothing works. They can only be harmed inside the host’s dream. 

\- Garret of Bamburgh 13th of March, the Sixteen-hundred-and-tenth year of our lord.

They will take the form of their current host’s source of anguish, it need not be a loved one but the beasts favor those forms. Especially if the host’s anguish was caused by the death of such folk.

\- Tomás de Torquemada, Grand Inquisitor of His Majesty King Ferdinand and His Holiness’ Inquisition, 5th of August, 1489

If the friends, family, or co-workers of the victim attempt to help ease their torment in any fashion, the beast will use whatever power it has over the poor bastard’s mind to influence them into being more irritable, angry, or if the beast has drained enough of the host; violent.

\- Sgt. First Class, Carl J. Russel, US Army. 05/22/1917

These were the ones among those that felt the need to sign and date their entries, and they were the most insightful among them. However, there was one anonymous annotation that will haunt me for the rest of my life;

If threatened, the creature will accelerate the process of consuming the soul of its current host. The only things that it will feel legitimately threatened by are things that can face it within The Dreaming; certain faeries, sorcerers, Gods of the night and of dreams, tulpas that have yet to materialize into the material, guardian spirits, and lucid dreamers are feared by all Algeans. Once the Algean knows that something is on to it and can face it within The Dreaming, it will do everything in its power to finish off the current host and find a new one in one last big act of Evil. I recall the tale of a recently widowed father who did all manner of violence upon his daughter when an apprentice Witch had attempted to save the man within his dreams without the aid of her Mistress and had failed. During my interrogation of the apprentice, she had confessed that since one could not die within a dream, she could attempt again another night. Showing her the aftermath of her folly was enough to show her the folly of her actions, and the apprentice had thrown herself into the nearby loch in penance. This has proven the theory held by the previous owners of this tome that there is only one chance at defeating the beast, lest it continue to spread suffering and corruption wherever they go. If you fail, you must immediately kill the host before it can commit its final act before passing itself on to another. This will kill the creature. I know this. I have seen it done by my own hand.

I swear, neither Taylor nor her father will fall victim to this monster any longer. I looked to Evian, still lounging on the stool but now in his normal feline guise.

“How do I enter The Dreaming?” I asked him

The cat snorted “Sleep.”

“How do I enter Mr. Hebert’s dream?” I asked, slowly losing my patience

“Lot’s of ways.” He replied “If you want to be lucid and worth a damn while doing it, you’re gonna need a Paired Dreamer’s Charm. Put one inside his pillow case and one inside your own and BAM, you’re both lucid dreaming! Should be a set in your Ma’s trunk.”

With a careful haste, I got out of my chair and knelt down in front of the trunk. Opening it up revealed a meticulously organized setup reminiscent of an over-sized tackle box. Each item was in a plastic baggie and clearly labeled with black marker, each tray had a label denoting an item’s category, Charms were towards the bottom of the trunk and to the rear and there was only one still there; The Paired Dreamer’s charms.

The charms themselves were little larger than a silver dollar coin and consisted of a triangular stone with an almost perfect circle naturally eroded through with a braided string tied through the hole. On further inspection, the string was made of human hair from two people; hair similar in color to mine and a vibrant red, it was a safe assumption that it was made from the hair of my parents.

With all that I needed in hand, I walked back to the spot where the cat and I landed and found a matching stone to the one in my closet. I knelt down and felt the cat jump on to my back, with that I uttered “Taistel” and once again was threaded through a needle. This time however, my insides did not feel it necessary to eject their contents on to my floor.

Still in the same position I had left Mother’s Grove in, I returned the floorboard to its proper place and looked over to my alarm clock, the digital numbers reading six-fifty PM, despite knowing I had spent at least two hours in the grove only eleven minutes had past.

I looked behind me, searching for Evian, hoping he would provide an answer. I saw nothing, and heard the rustle of a sheet of paper on my backpack.

You’re on your own from here kid

-E

I crumpled the paper in my hand before dropping it into my garbage bin. Guess the cat wasn’t lying, I’m on my own from here.

I heard Mr. Hebert’s truck pull out in to the street with a screech, off to god knows where.

I barely had a plan, and it was a long shot, but I had to try lest I need to attempt more drastic measures.

Taylor

12/30/10, 6:56 PM

Dad went off to get another case of beer.

Apparently he finally got to the case he bought the other day and found out he grabbed a case full of bad ones.

He said he’d “Deal with me later” and to “Stay the fuck away from that punk-ass next door” last night and hasn’t said a word to me since. He just acts as if I wasn’t even there, just muttering to himself about “work needing to be done” like he was possessed or something. Hell, the only reason I even know where he’s going now was because he kept muttering on about it before he left.

What happened to dad? Why is he like this? Why did he look like he was going to kill Walt?

I need to know why, and I doubt I’ll get an answer.

A frantic knock at my front door breaks me from my brooding and I walked down to answer it.

To my surprise, it was Walt, looking very nervous and checking both ends of the street for obvious reasons.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I told him

“I know.” he said “I had to see you, make sure you were OK.”

“I’m fine.”

No I’m not.

I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows it too but he doesn’t call me on my bullshit. He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye

“I know what’s making your father act this way. I know how to stop it.”

Really now? I sincerely doubt that, cowboy.

“I know it sounds strange, but I cannot say exactly what it is. Only that I can stop it.”

He held out a strange triangular stone with a hole in the middle and a braided string made of what looked like human hair tied to it.

“Take this stone, put it in your father’s pillowcase and make sure he sleeps tonight with that pillow.”

“I didn’t peg you for the superstitious type, Walter. What, if anything, would doing something so damn stupid accomplish anything.”

Walt let out an exasperated sigh before answering “I can’t say. You just have to trust me.”

I tried to find anything in his body language or the look in his eyes that would show me he that he was lying to me. My instincts were telling me that this was a trick, just someone else who tried to get in close and then pull the rug under me at the worst possible moment for some sick kick.

But.

There was that small treacherous voice in my head, begging me to trust this boy. The last bit of hope that school, dad becoming this unrecognizable monster, or this fucked up city hadn’t snuffed out yet.

It was telling me to take a leap of faith, that even if I fell, Walt would catch me.

The moment felt like an eternity and I took the stone.

“OK. You better explain yourself once this is all said and done. You hear me?”

He looked me in the eyes with unwavering determination and said “I will, I promise.” before quickly returning to his home.

As soon as he was gone, I closed the door and went up to the pillow on the couch that Dad brought down and shoved the weird stone and string as snugly inside the pillow case as I could. With the deed done, I went up to my room and held Mom’s flute close, just in time to hear dad come inside.

As I heard him stomp around downstairs, I thought to myself. Not quite a prayer, not quite a wish, that Walt will come through and whatever weird voodoo horseshit he’s trying actually works, that this would be the night where things get better.

Yet again, I held the flute close as I drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that took a bit longer than I expected. Shout out to my friend V who I bounce Ideas off of and consult on the finer details of witchcraft and paganism as to not get things offensively wrong, I welcome any and all criticism, and appreciate pointing out any and all typos. Thank you have a good one.


	10. Origin 1.8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned; shit is about to get slightly graphic and not so slightly weird

ɈlɒW

0Ɩ0ς/0Ɛ/ςƖ

ob oɈ doį ɒ ɘvɒʜ υoγ

oɿɈƨnom lɘ ɒɈɒm

ɿɘɈɒv nɘb ɘɈɈɘɿ

ɘlliʇ ɒl ɘvυɒƨ

ɒbɿoɔɘɿ

The city of Brockton Bay is beautiful today; Sun is shining, city streets are clean, and we’re yet again free of street crime. On top of all that, I just quit my job and The Man no longer has his chains around me! After all, The Brockton Bay Little Owl needs saving!

I dunno why, I just know I have to. I even got a sleeveless to help support the cause (Can’t go wrong with Save the Little Owl in big bold font!), makes my pink Lennon shades and favorite jeans ensemble complete. Hell, with how clean the streets are I can walk about barefoot and I didn’t need any hat on this fine sunny day!

I almost stopped when I heard a telephone ringing quite loudly in the distance, I couldn’t though there was something I needed doing.

To live in the Jewel of New Hampshire, to be free of work, and on ones way to do a good deed.

Can’t say I know why I’m doing it, but I just have to.

Come to think of it, I don’t believe I know where I’m going. I know the Brockton Little Owl needs saving, but from what and where?

Ah! I should ask the authorities, surely they should know!

Despite being just the right time for it the park I’m in is almost devoid of people, barring the occasional youngster in their barrel hats and teapot shoes. Clearly on a school trip!

It would be sometime before I needed to hurry up and wait for the Brockton Little Owl, but I should still get there early.

Try as I might, I found no constable, no fireman, no mailman, no alderman, no manned man, unmanned Mann, or even Manny “The Man” Mann. Not a Man to be found. No Women either. Or is it Woman?

It is nine in the afternoon after all, maybe they’re all out to get coffee? What’s a lovely day like this at Nine in Noon without that miracle elixir?

But where would a coffee house be at this hour? They have a way of moving about the place after all.

Ah! there’s one, coming down the street with its matching legs, marching clocks. A pair of gentlemen in uniform jackets are at the tables in its beak! One BBPD-man name Bubpud and one PRT-man named Purt, if one knows the other shouldn’t, So if there are two of them my odds of education are enhanced!

I flag it down with a wooden wave, so lucky I found one on the ground, and it stopped to kick me up to the balcony. How convenient that it would know my destination!

The man are turned away, discussing something away from eyeshot and earshot, but not buckshot or birdshot. Lucky for the both of them neither Buck nor Bird are with us.

“Pardon me good sirs, good knights of the realm, but might one of you know where I can find The Brockton Little Owl? I’m on my way to save her, but I don’t know the way.”

They flipped over their tables in surprise, coming to attention in front of me. Their faces done up in their standard regulatory grooming standard; faces painted white, lips painted in a frown, red noses, and eyes in patterns as to obscure their vision.

Purt had smacked Bubpud in the face, Bubpud poked Purt in the eye and began to hoot and holler. First at each-other and then at me

Well that’s no way to treat someone on a quest

“Pardon me sirs, but could you direct me to where I might find The Brockton Little Owl? She needs saving and I wish to do my part.”

Purt stamped his foot on Bubpud, and Bubpud slapped Purt before both honked the other’s nose and waddled off the edge of the coffee house balcony and into an open wo-man-man-wo hole.

Hmm. No dice here. No answers either

I turned to the coffee house’s insides; no baristas and their bartitsu. Their phone was ringing though, best ignore it. Someone who works should answer it, not someone on a quest.

I hopped off the balcony to walk towards the beach, after all the Dockfather’s Ferry should be passing by soon!

It was a long walk (a whole six seconds!) but I made it to the beach, the bay is clear as always and the view of the ships in the distance with the Ferry bobbing along the bay make such good scene!

As I sat there and watched the ferry I saw the creatures in the bay; the twin headed snake, the shrinking and growing dragon, the metal man, the speed weed, and all their friends having a wonderful game of tag and flag footfall to my left and the PRT-men making sure to referee badly as were the rules.

It always struck me as strange that nobody knew what the rules were when they played and seemed to make up rules as they went, especially when they made sense. Everyone knows not to write down rules or for them to make sense. Best for them to contradict, contraindicate, and contract at a moment’s notice less the fun end.

I could have watched them for longer but I still had to find where I could find the Brockton Little Owl. I dared not ask the creatures of the bay, for they were busy and I shouldn’t be rude.

Mayhaps sitting on a bench instead of a rock would help.

I hopped up to the boardwalk and found a bench off its break, beckoning I sit.

Well it’d be rude to decline after all.

The bench made itself more comfortable for me and even offered a shoulder rub, I had to decline however. It would need to be tipped afterwards and I couldn’t spare the silver, The Little Owl might need it for saving after all!

As I thought to myself, I heard yet another phone ringing to my right. A Phonebooth was walking my way and opening itself up to me. Must be for me!

I thanked the bench, and slid into the booth making sure to pat the phone in thanks.

I lifted the receiver to my ear

“Ahoy?” I greeted “How can I help?”

There was a distraught woman on the other end, weeping, speaking frantically and quietly

“Ma’am?” I said “Speak up, I can’t hear you. You’re cutting out.”

The woman spoke only slightly louder, and the only things I could make out were;

“…Please…help…can’t…find…Little…Owl…”

It may seem a coherent sentence but there was a hell of a lot more she was trying to say, I swear!

Hearing Little Owl, I had to ask her

“Ma’am, do you mean The Brockton Little Owl?” I thought to myself that maybe this was the clue I needed

“…Please…hurry…orn…will…Little…hurry…” was all I could make out before the line goes dead

The line hung itself with a bowline and I lost my smile, this woman clearly wanted to help the Little Owl and was telling me to hurry.

I checked my pockets, surely I had written down where I needed to go to save The Little Owl.

To my surprise the only thing I had found was a multi-tool, a beautifully made multi-tool.

Ah!

Now I remember why I was going to save the Little Owl!

I had scared her

I didn’t mean to

I found something she lost.

It was broken and I had fixed it for her

She gave me this as thanks.

When she gave me this something bad happened to her, that’s why I needed to save her!

I noticed the sky growing a lot more dim, sadly the glasses would have to go and the booth would need a tip for its help. As I lifted the shades from my eyes, the daylight returned but gone was the clean city I was walking through and the cities were littered with trash of varying sizes!

Well, I can’t walk about barefoot through this. I would need my boots, The Smith should have some I think. He had fixed my old pair and all I would need to do is pick it up.

I shook the hand of the booth and gave him my shades, I wouldn’t need them, and walked into The Smith’s Smithy

Hmm...

How convenient!

As always, the Smith keeps his smithy floor so clean and plush and he is ready at the desk with the grin in his eyes. The Smith was naught more than a walking mass of beard and hair under a cloak of feathers. Only his eyes were truly visible.

“Hello Smith!” I called out to him “I need my boots, the streets are now filthy and there is an Owl I need to save!”

The Smith nodded to my feet and there were my boots

“My thanks Smith.” I tipped my hat to him and returned it to my head

Before I went off, I needed to ask him something. With how Wise and Learned he is, surely he could give me directions to the Little Owl.

“Smith. Do you know where I might find The Brockton Little Owl?”

The Smith’s beard snaked up and pointed its tip towards his back door. I knew he’d be able to help!

I walked through the door and closed it behind me, hearing the doorknob suck itself back to the other side.

I looked around, hoping I might find the Little Owl, alas all there was; an empty and quite dark convenience store.

I say empty, but there was a Lectern under the sole light coming from the sealing. On it, a book with a massive EF on it.

Curiosity be a cat that never dies, and I’m particularly fond of the things so naturally I would read a book held in front of me

I opened the book, and was greeted by swirling text constantly shifting and changing. It made my eyes water and need blinking, the blinking seemed to make it worse.

I forced my eyes open to read the text, now solid

“REMEMBER”

I felt my heart quicken, and I clutched the tool the Owl had given me

Remember? Remember what?

Wait. Books don’t shift their text, coffee houses don’t wander, this city is a cesspit, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS NINE IN THE AFTERNOON!

I’m in Mr. Hebert’s Dream!

The book closed itself and I backed away from the lectern. I came here to kill the Algean, the monster that has a hold on Mr. Hebert. Either my own subconscious or Mr. Hebert’s subconscious has been trying to tell me that I was here in the first place. The phones in particular.

I let out a sigh, thankful that nobody would witness me acting like such a fool.

I thought that the Paired Dreamer’s Charms were supposed to make me lucid for this? I’ve been bumbling around like a damned idiot from the moment I got here.

I’ll have to have words with the Cat if I see him again.

Now, what to do?

This is a dream, normal rules don’t quite apply here.

So if I needed to find the Little Owl, then I’d just have to teleport myself there. Shape the dream to my whim.

Taylor’s mother called her Little Owl, Little Owl must be dream Taylor. If I’m in Mr. Hebert’s dream then that means that she would be home. I hope so anyway.

What better place to find her home than from my bedroom?

Concentrate Walter, focus on your room. Remember the dimensions, your desk, your bed, your office chair.

I closed my eyes and repeated that in my thoughts like a prayer, feeling a strange warp form around me as I did.

I opened my eyes and found myself in my bedroom, or rather the closest as I could get it. There was a bookshelf there where I had planned on putting one if I ever found one I could restore or build myself, the linens on my bed where the wrong color, my curtains and window were now a door, and all the furniture was slightly warped.

Close enough for government work, and that door looks promising. May as well try it out.

Opening the door, revealed an iron and brass bridge leading to a facsimile of the Hebert’s home. What in the waking world was a normal, if shabby and ill taken care of, home was now almost a dilapidated ruin cold and dead, with a mass of writhing black sharpened thorns made from ink and smoke. The only spot untouched on the house was the window to Taylor’s bedroom. From where I stood, I could hear the fluttering of wings and a girl crying for help. I tested the bridge with my foot, making sure it was as it appeared and began inching my way across, halfway through going at a swifter pace.

Upon reaching the window I saw a room covered almost completely in white sheets, in the center uncovered was a large birdcage with an owl frantically trying to get free.

“Hey.” I called out to her

The owl turned her head, then her body towards me. The owl’s feathers were a dark brown almost black, with lighter coloration around her brown not quite human eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked in Taylor’s voice

“I’m here to get you out of here.” I said as I felt out the window, trying to find a latch or something that would open it. As I did, the thorned vines grew and quickly barred the window, I tested the knife of the multi-tool on one of them and found them too thick to cut.

Owl Taylor hung her head and said “The monster that bewitched the Dockfather made these thorns, only by defeating her will these vines wither and die.”

In an attempt of not letting some dream get the better of me, I stubbornly kept trying to saw through the vines only to find them becoming thicker and growing more thorns with every attempt.

“It won’t work.” Owl Taylor said “You must defeat the monster, break her hold on the Dockfather, only then can I be freed.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, so much for that I thought to myself. I looked into the Owl Taylor’s eyes

“This monster, she with the Dockfather?” I ask

Owl Taylor nodded “Yes, ever since The Rose went missing. This monster keeps the Dockfather locked within the Union House, making him chase false hopes and falsehoods, she makes him drink to more excess than he used to, with every night her power grew until she trapped so many of the Dockfather’s loved ones within their homes to keep them from helping him.”

That lines up with what the Encyclopedia Fabula said. I asked her for more information on the Algean

“The monster took the form of The Rose to get in close and bewitch him, first she locked out the Dockmen, then me. I have seen her change her shape to threaten those that dared get close.”

I looked into the dream version of Taylor’s eyes and swore to her that I would kill the monster and free her and her father. I know it really wasn’t her, nor would she or her father hear those words, but saying it gave me the steel and grit to press on.

If I failed, this monster wouldn’t just stop at the Heberts. It would jump from host to host, leaving nothing but the dead and the broken in its wake. I would need every bit of that steel and grit to succeed.

“This monster would die tonight, I will make sure of it” I told the Owl before turning to return to my false room, and to make my way downstairs.

Opening the door to what would be the second floor and finding it lead to the front porch did not shock me or stall me as I walked, seeing what was in front of the house did.

A coat as black as night, mane as white as freshly fallen snow. Saddled and ready to go.

Lily Bell, the only thing of my father’s that I had at the Connolly Ranch.

I embraced her, and was almost set to weep. Only one tear was shed, becoming ash as I steeled myself once again.

“I miss you girl.” I told her “Can you help me tonight?”

Lily Bell nuzzled me and turned her neck to push me towards the saddle

“Thank you.” was all I could say

I placed one foot in the stirrup and kicked off to hop back and mount myself in her saddle. As I did, I felt an old and comforting duster fit itself to my body. I imagine I looked like a proper hero from an old dime novel. I looked out to the bay, seeing the city rotting and now covered in the thorns of the Algean with the most of it centered around the city docks.

I spurred Lily Bell on to naturally reach a full gallop, relishing the feeling of riding her once again trying not to think on never being able to do this again once this dream was over.

As we rode, I saw the cityscape melt away to hills and valleys dotted with standing pines. With every hoof-beat, more and more of the city was overtaken by the wilderness of Wyoming, only Brockton Bay’s docks were untouched by the frontier taking back its place.

What would have taken at least an hour in the waking world took only what felt like mere moments to me and quickly showed me the truth of the Dream Docks; a fortress hearkening to the castles of medieval Britain or France made of conex boxes, derelict ships, broken cranes, and destroyed warehouses. I reined in Lily Bell as we reached the arching gate made from a ship’s bow, not knowing if the creature had the foresight to make defenses.

I brought Lily Bell to a forward walk, keeping my eyes keen and aware of my surroundings for any sign of ambush. Contrary to my preferred forms of literature, there were no bandits waiting in the wings to gun me down in the back, no irate Apache, Navajo, or Cheyenne ready to unseat me from Lily Bell and drag me off to do something horrific and too graphic for the dime novel publishers, nor was there anything else of that nature. I’d have been disappointed if it didn’t mean a potential swift end to my task.

Once Lily Bell and I reached the doors of the Union House, what would be the castle proper in an actual medieval fortress, a hitching post sprung forth from the ground in a shower of leaves and flora.

I dismounted carefully, and gave Lily Bell one last pet before bidding her goodbye and walking in through the opened doors.

The Union House’s entrance hall was far grander and taller than it had any right to be, fitting for a man’s dream perception of someplace treasured. The hall itself was made from sheet metal like that of a warehouse and riveted with gold, slowly becoming more tarnished and rusty, as well as covered in the thorns I had seen around the Hebert’s home, as I got closer to the end. As I came closer, I could see the cracked doors to a singular room where the sound of a rather distraught man wailing in grief and a woman soothing him came. I leaned against the wall, and inched the door open a further crack hoping to catch a glimpse of the inside, seeing what looked to be Mr. Hebert in blue robe bedecked with white stars and crescent moons along with the Algean, taking the form of the late Mrs. Hebert partially made from ink and in a white dress stained with smoke and more ink. The room itself was a large flagstone dome filled with empty papers and glass vials with skulls and crossbones on them.

My eyes narrowed, I felt my blood boil, and I readied the knife of the multi-tool. I creeped the door open, just as Mr. Hebert wailed and tossed a ream of blank papers into the wall facing away from the door, and readied myself to lunge at the creature in a crouch.

I waited the span between my heartbeats before sprinting forward and pouncing on to the false Mrs. Hebert, driving the knife into the monsters neck and drawing a high pressure spray of ink and ash as the creature let out a pained and liquid howl and tried to toss me from her back. I held on for only a second before the monster tossed me aside near the fallen Mr. Hebert.

I quickly looked to him, seeing lucidity come to him and then the shock of seeing the monster before meeting my eyes

“Eric? What, wha-” he stammered “What the fuck is that? Why does it look like Annette?”

Not caring that he mistook me for my father, I quickly got up along with him and pushed him towards the door.

“Run home!” I shouted “Taylor needs you!”

I caught one last glimpse of Mr. Hebert’s face, now hardening to that of a dutiful and determined father on a mission to help his daughter, as he ran through the door and out of the Union House. As soon as he walked through the door the thorns grew and blocked it off and I turned to face the monster.

The Algean stood straight and rolled its shoulder, looking over them to me and meeting my gaze. Its eyes became completely black, its mouth cracked open wider, thorns and spikes grew out of its head and shards of something obsidian like jutted out of every bit of its skin. It’s foul and misshapen mouth became a scowl as it turned to face me completely.

“I don’t know how you found me out, or how you got in here you little shit.” It spoke, still with its voice filled with that bubbling foul liquid quality “But you should know, that you’re not gonna win this. Many have tried, and all have failed.”

I readied the knife and the Algean began to pace about the room, not breaking eye contact. Soon, the pacing became an attempt to circle, I made sure to match its pace, keep steady footing, and to keep my eyes open for any opening in its defense or concentration.

As we circled each other, the monster’s hands became ebony claws, its legs grew longer becoming cloven hooves, and from under its dress grew a tail made from sharpened thorns like that of a rose ending in a stinger.

“Ah! You’re that neighbor boy, the one who was talking to Daniel’s dear sweet daughter. Oh, you’ll get a front row seat to the show, can’t have you missing out on the fun.” It said “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that after we have our fun, we’ll leave enough for those grandparents of yours to find…”

It was trying to bait me, the only thing I gave it was a scowl to match the one it gave me. It was taunting me, trying to force me into making the first move. I knew that it had all the time in the world, I didn’t. I would have to make the opening play.

I lunged forward, making a feint, trying to get a clean shot at its back. I plunged the knife into where the kidneys on a human being would be, making sure to twist the knife as I pulled out, more ink and ash coming from the wound

The monster lashed out with backhanded swipe of its claws, catching my off hand and drawing blood. I hissed in pain, feeling it bloom within my arm. I somehow managed to roll away and keep hold of my knife, my offhand bleeding more than a cut of that shallowness should but giving me the method to pull off something only found in the few fiction novels found within the walls of the Connolly Ranch house, a maneuver that would be normally impossible without causing a fatal injury.

I cupped my offhand and let it hang, feeling the blood pool into it. The Algean laughed with malicious mockery “Oh, I am gonna make damn sure you’re the opener for when I make Danny Boy snap.”

It began to sing “I’m gonna rip your skiiiin off, stick twenty needles in your EYE-BALLS!”

Upon the last note of its foul tune, it lunged towards me and I splashed the blood in my off hand into its eyes. As the monster stumbled and tried to clear its vision I sent the blade into its back thrice more, making sure to drive it in deeper and harder with every stab, relishing every spray of the foul facsimile of blood that flew from its wounds. Before I could drive the blade in a fourth time, the creature’s thorned tail sank into my shoulder and with strength unbefitting of such a thin and whiplike thing lifted me off the ground.

I tried to pull the damned thing free from my shoulder, but found no leverage. The monster laughed and its tail lengthened, no doubt to begin slamming me all over our stone arena.

“You know, Daniel has gone so long without the touch of a woman and he’s so backed up and his daughter, well she looks so much like her mother. Why, she’d make a fine surrogate for his…frustrations and all it would take to drive him off that cliff would be to make him drink something a little harder when I go for the curtain call.” The creature spat and smiled with wicked and cruel glee “Daddy issues are such a long lasting source of essence and the children of hosts always make it taste so good compared to non-blood related ones…”

The creature cackled and then feigned shock and embarrassment “Don’t worry my little duckling. Like I said; you’re gonna get a front row seat to the show, a perfect garnish to a hard earned FEAST!”

With boiling blood, I slashed the tail in pure rage, severing the thing completely and watching that damned beast howl in pain as more ash and ink sprayed from the stump whilst it retracted.

I didn’t feel flagstones under me when I fell, and after I wrenched the stinger from my shoulder and tossed it away, I saw something familiar; rolling hills surrounding a large homestead in the shadow of a mountain.

My home for the majority of the fifteen years of my life.

Connolly Ranch.

Right within sprinting distance, and within the main house was something I knew would end this beast.

I scrambled to my feet, holding my wounded shoulder in a furtive attempt to staunch the flow of blood and making sure to throw my head over my shoulder to taunt the creature

“Hey she-bitch!” I shouted “Thought you were gonna rip my skin off and stick needles in my eye? Bet you couldn’t outrun a wounded rabbit let alone wounded me!”

I turned my head towards the house hoping that by taunting the beast it would continue to pursue me and not try and end the dream by getting to Mr. Hebert. I did my damnedest to run faster than I had ever ran in my life as I heard the angered howl of the Algean and its cloven hooves stamp towards me. I could almost feel its evil on my back as I ran closer and closer to the front door of my old home.

I almost leapt through the door. With a burst of whatever passes as adrenaline within a dream I cleared the door frame and slammed it shut, and sent home all three locks, latches, and dead bolts. I saw the door shake as the Algean slammed into it, I did not linger. My victory lied within Grandfather’s den, towards the rear of the house on the first floor and I sprinted to it not letting any of the memories of the old house stall me.

I heard the monster battering the door down and knew I did not have long, I heard the front door fall to the floor as I rounded the final corner and came to the homestretch to Grandfather’s den. I felt my heart pound as I let go of my wound to have both arms pump as I made one last mad sprint to that room and tossing open the door.

In a cabinet housed behind his desk was my paternal grandfather’s most treasured possession; a Side-By-Side Double Barreled Shotgun, 10 Gauge Remington, Loud as Thunder, and could cut a man clean in half. Fully loaded with buckshot in case of necessity.

I used the last of my stamina to reach the cabinet, open it, and grab that prized shotgun. I turned and slumped down against the unopened the old wooden cabinet’s glass door, readying the shotgun against my shoulder and cocking the hammers. Taking aim at the door, both fingers positioned over each trigger, the Algean leapt through the door and time to me slowed to a crawl.

The reason my grandfather considered this particular gun of his vast collection the greatest was twofold; first having a paradox barrel prior to George Fosbery making his famed Paradox Rifle, and second having a slight design flaw that Grandfather considered a feature; due to a quirk of the triggers’ heavier than average pull, there was a chance of both hammers going off with one trigger pull.

As the monster leapt towards me, I pulled the front trigger, felt my fingers snap, my arm break, and my shoulder shatter the glass cabinet door it was braced against as both barrels fired at once, shredding the creature at the apex of its leap and going through the top of its body all the way through its legs, the force of the shells somehow sending it flying back towards the door.

With that, I let myself slide down and take a deep, painful breath.

I stayed there for a few moments, surveying the damage. All that was left of the creature was its upper torso, neck, head, and half of the right arm with the rest being black and ashen chunks all over the den. Grandfather would chew me out if he saw this, not only ruining his den, but not maintaining proper firing stance because of a simple wound and allowing the weapon to do as much damage to myself as the damn thing I shot at. If I had remembers all those lessons of his, I would have still been standing, the cabinet wouldn’t be shattered all around me, my right hand would not be a mangled mess, my arm wouldn’t be broken, and I wouldn’t have made my shoulder wound even worse.

Either way, it was over and I felt relief fill me.

Suddenly, the “corpse” stirred and turned a single open eye towards me, filled with malice and hatred. The damn thing was still alive!

I tried to stand up, to reach the box of shells still in the cabinet but hadn’t the strength left in my legs to do it. The monster rolled over its teeth sharpening and tongue growing longer, the Algean wriggled closer, slowly and surely to finish me off and possibly regain the strength to finish off Mr. Hebert.

As it got closer, panic gripped me, I frantically looked for anything I could get my less wounded hand on. Feeling my left hand find a large shard of glass I gripped it, ignoring the shard cutting in to my palm.

The creature coiled slightly then lunged towards me, its foul tongue whipping around. I blocked with my mangled hand, ignoring the stinging barbs that grew from it to pull its head towards the right hand wall and to send the shard of glass into its neck.

With a roar I plunged the shard over and over into the beasts neck until it broke off inside its neck, my vision being obscured by the ink and ashes spewing from its gaping wound. With a sudden and surely final burst of strength, I pulled the monsters neck into a choke hold. I squeezed as tight as I could, the monster attempting to flail itself free and feeling myself fade from blood-loss.

It was now or never

I used the last of that burst to jerk the beast’s head around and heard a sickening crack and squelch.

Soon after, that black and foul substitute for blood disappeared along with the creature’s corpse.

The Algean was no more.

My vision was clear of the gunk, but bloodless still made it difficult to focus.

I hadn’t wanted to feel this again. Not after that day.

Someone walked through the door, a woman in white with dark hair. It looked like that photo of Mrs Hebert with mother.

It was Mrs. Hebert.

“Thank you, Walter.” she said in a soothing and comforting voice, the one I had heard from the phone earlier “Daniel’s free now, he can finally recover and hopefully let me go.”

I felt cold, I was bleeding out. Just like before…

“I don’t want to die Mrs. Hebert.” I told her, with what were undoubtedly my final tears “I’m scared…”

In the distance I heard a noise, droning beeps

“You aren’t going to die, Walter.” Mrs Hebert said to me with a friendly laugh “Don’t you want to shut that alarm up?”

I was confused

“What ala-”

Walt

12/31/10, 7:30 AM

My face became rather intimate with the ground and pain was the result.

In a frenzied panic, I got to my feet checking myself for the wounds I had felt and finding nothing.

That droning and loud beeping kept going, on instinct I slapped its source; my alarm clock.

My head darted around, making sure that everything was in its place. Once I was assured of the material nature of my surroundings, I let out a sigh of relief.

I walked over to my window and threw open the curtains, taking in that sight of the old New Hampshire homes and the half sunken ships dotting the bay.

I was awake.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him; Mr. Hebert looking far healthier and less haggard than last I saw him, still tired but in a manner suggesting age rather than the corruption he had been suffering. He was throwing a few cases of beer into his garbage tote.

I closed my curtains and swiftly got dressed, rushed downstairs, quickly greeted Finn and Saoirse who didn’t seem to mind my haste, and rushed outside making sure to close the door behind me.

I made my way over to Mr. Hebert, it was time for the moment of truth.

As I walked up to him, he saw me and instantly his face became filled with shame.

I knew that he would try to shy away from me and picked up my pace, shouting “Mr. Hebert, wait up!” as I jogged up to him.

“Good morning, Mr. Hebert” I said with a smile. “Great morning isn’t it?”

Mr. Hebert tried to bring himself to match my apparent sunny disposition but couldn’t quite manage it

“Hey there Walt…” he said

“How are you feeling sir?” I asked him

Mr. Hebert shook his head “A hell of a lot better than usual, especially more so than…”

His tightened his eyes in pain as he said recalled the events of the twenty ninth, he opened his mouth to speak “I was out of line. I shouldn’t have done that. If you want to press charges…”

I held my hands up and stammered to stop him

“No sir, no sir. There is nothing to forgive.” I told him “You weren’t in your right mind, mad as hell, some strange boy from next door was talking to your daughter. I get it sir, any other man would have been in your position.”

Well, maybe without the Dream Eater exacerbating things

“That doesn’t make it right…” he tried to tell me before I held up my hands again, letting a silent beat fall between us.

“Well. If you want to make it up that badly, Finn and Saoirse wanted me to invite you and Taylor over for a little New Years get together. Said you could bring that couple from work you’re friends with too if they wanted to come along, a Kurt and Lacey if I recall correctly”

I was doing my damnedest to act friendly, I honestly didn’t know if it was working or if he could tell that this was not normal for me.

“I don’t think…” Mr. Hebert trailed off, turning to look at his slightly overflowing tote filled with trash and beer cases then to the porch of his home where Taylor was standing, looking much happier than last I had seen her. Mr. Hebert let out a sigh before looking at me and continuing with a smile “You know what? I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”


	11. Origin 1.9

Walt

12/31/10 7:40 AM

The second I closed the door and locked it I let out a heavy sigh of relief, the weight of the past few days finally being lifted.

I made my way to the kitchen to give Finn and Saoirse the news, as well as finally ask them some rather pertinent questions. Stepping past the threshold, I caught sight of the far younger appearance of my maternal grandparents.

Finn no longer looked like an octogenarian and his hair was once again the vibrant red seen in the pictures about the house. Prior to my visit to Mother’s Glade, Finn McCullough had a physique resembling that of a bean pole, now he looked filled out and most certainly at peak physical condition. If I had to make an accurate guess, I would say that he looked closer to a man in his mid to late thirties at the youngest and early forties at the eldest.

Saoirse’s figure didn’t change all that much, still fairly thin for a woman of her age, still a head shorter than myself and Finn. However, the changes that did happen were far more striking; her skin paler – almost white, her hair became darker and filled with the volume that any woman would no doubt kill to have and its color seemed to shift from ebony to a medium brown depending on how the light caught it, and finally her eyes seemed to have an odd shine to them.

“Mornin’ Walt!” said Finn, handing me a cup of coffee “How’d it go over with Daniel?”

I took a sip of that cup of holy blackness before answering “Mr. Hebert accepted the invitation to our New Years get together.”

Saoirse beamed and gave me a pat on the back “Glad to hear it.”

After returning from the glade and rushing downstairs to see if I couldn’t hand off the charm to Taylor, I had caught sight of my grandparents in their current youthful state. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I didn’t feel it pertinent to ask them why they no longer looked so old, feeling it better to focus on the task I had set for myself and delaying the no doubt awkward questions till after fighting the Algean.

I made sure to sit down and take another sip of the Colombian roast before ripping off the proverbial band-aid

“Finn. Saoirse.” I said as flatly as possible. “Why do you no longer look like geriatric senior citizens?”

I imagine seeing ones grandparents freeze in place and then slowly turn to stare at you would be somewhat amusing in better circumstances. Finn stopped cutting up his biscuits and gravy and Saoirse stopped short of feeding herself a bit of scrambled egg.

Saoirse was the first to move, putting down her fork and coming round to me and giving me a light smack upside the head. Finn chuckled nervously after and stammered a bit before continuing

“Oh, you know. It’s that new beauty cream, Saoirse had us try it and…”

If this is how Finn acts when he’s lying I should probably keep him from any poker tables.

“Grandpa, you look like a man in your thirties. Grandma looks like she’s barely pushing thirty. Why is that.”

Saoirse let out a sigh before saying “I take it Evian came by to show you your mother’s old trailer?”

Finn stopped looking so nervous and became rather sheepish.

“Yes ma’am.” I said “Had me drink something funny and when I came back I saw you two look younger.”

Saoirse returned to her seat near Finn before letting out a sigh and replying

“I’m a selkie, dear.” She said “We live quite a long while.

I remember reading something about them, women who could turn into seals or seals that could turn into women. Also that it was common in their stories that men would take their sealskin coats and kidnap them as brides.

“Did Finn kidnap you?” I asked bluntly

Finn and Saoirse looked horrified that I would even suggest such a thing.

“Hell no!” Finn shouted with an irritated look

“I gave Finn my coat willingly, Walter.” Said Saoirse “While the story of how Finn and I fell in love greatly resembles a fairy tale, I assure you it wasn’t like the many stories told about my kind.”

I grimaced and looked down at my coffee, feeling quite shameful for assuming.

Saoirse put her hand on mine “It’s alright, dear. You didn’t know.”

“OK. My grandmother is a Selkie, that explains your apparent youth. It doesn’t explain why Grandpa is young now, or why I and presumably anybody else could only see you as elders.”

“Well Walter, to be able to tell you that we’d have to tell you the story of how your Grandmother and I met, how we fell in love, and how we ended up married.” Finn said, his voice filled with the joy of fond memories.

Saoirse continued; “It started in ‘46. Your grandpa was staying with family that still lived in Ireland-”

“I thought selkies were a Scottish story.” I said, interrupting the story and getting a smack upside the cheek from Saoirse

“Don’t interrupt. Selkie can be found all around the Atlantic coastlines where Seal can be found. Used to be a small community of them around here before the riots that gave us that eyesore of a Boat Graveyard.”

Finn picked up where Saoirse left off “I had gotten out of the Army and didn’t really know what to do with myself. My mother and father died of consumption right before the US joined in the war, I enlisted thinking that serving my country would help me get through it, it didn’t. Just came home to nothing, and all my war buddies were moving on with their lives. I went to Ireland to finally meet the family that didn’t come to the US, my own grandparents, aunts, uncles. Mostly wandered around helping them out at their places of business or around the house, one of my uncles was a luthier and violinist and he worked me the hardest. Taught me how to make instruments, fix em up, tune em up, even how to play them.”

Finn took a sip of his own cup of coffee before resuming

“Started practicing my my fiddle out on the beach by the cottage they set me up in. One day, saw your grandma. Hiding out by one of the rocks, just watching me play.”

Saoirse embraced him and leaned in as Finn gave her a peck on the cheek

“I didn’t mind the company and didn’t feel the need to scare her, so I just kept playing. Once I stopped, she was gone. Kind of fell into a bit of a routine of it; after work I’d come and practice out on the rocks and Saoirse would watch from afar.”

“I gathered the courage to actually speak with your grandpa eventually, just walked up and started talking with him once he was done playing. I introduced myself, he introduced himself. We got to talking, and soon after we had quite the whirlwind romance.” Saoirse said with a wide smile “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though. At the time my family had betrothed me to a selkie man by the name of Cormag.”

Knowing full well that there was a smack in my future for doing so, I interrupted my grandma to ask “There are male selkie?”

Sure enough, Saoirse smacked me in the same spot on my cheek.

“Stop that. Yes there are male selkie, how do you think more selkie are made?” She said, giving me a stern look before resuming the story “Cormag was a braggart, a bully, and a brute. He wasn’t particularly fond of humanity either."

Finn looked over to me as he gave Saoirse’s shoulder a rub with one hand while he took a sip of coffee with the other.

“One day while your grandma and I were out on the beach, Cormag leapt out of the water in his seal form, shifted to human, and dragged Saoirse off into the water after decking me while I was surprised.” He said, rubbing his jaw. “So I ran my ass to my bicycle, rode like a madman into town and told anybody who would listen about what I just saw. Nobody believed me, not even most of my family. Only the old timers did. After being laughed at for what felt like the thirtieth time, my great aunt took me aside and brought me to an old path that led into the local woods. Told me that only the Queen of the Fairies, would be able to help me find Saoirse.”

Finn took one last sip of coffee before continuing

“Long story short; your grandma got kidnapped by a jealous ex, I got help from the Fairy Queen, she showed me where that shotgun wedding was and how to get there, gave me a necklace so I wouldn’t drown going down there, beat Cormag like a drum and saved your grandma. Somehow, her father thought that any man who would go up to get the help of Titania and interrupt a wedding to save his beloved from a life devoid of love and respect was alright in his book and gave me and your grandma his blessing to be married. Hell, the people officiating the wedding offered to marry us on the spot. Even Cormag’s family were ok with it! Guess not stealing your grandma’s coat and being far more pleasant than that lummox was a nice touch.”

Saoirse crossed her arms and pouted “You didn’t have to rush it, Finn. It’s one worth telling in its entirety and without any cuts.”

Finn just laughed and hugged her “I don’t think Walter quite has the patience for it, hun.”

He’s right. I really don’t.

“Still does not answer my earlier questions.” I said “Evian mentioned The Mists, does it have something to do with that?”

Finn rolled his eyes playfully and Saoirse pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke

“Since selkie are closely related to the fae we live far longer than any mortal man. I didn’t want to outlive him, so before he took me to America we sought an audience with Queen Titania, asking her if she could make me mortal so I could grow old with Finn.”

I was going to interrupt again but Finn spoke before I could

“Yes _that_ Titania.” He said “No Oberon though and I didn’t feel it pertinent to ask about him.”

Saoirse chimed back in “To our surprise, Titania offered instead to grant Finn the same kind of longevity that a selkie would.”

“Given the price of such a generous offer it made sense.” Finn said, pushing his tin mug aside with a look of disappointment towards the lack of coffee within it “In exchange for that life extension, Saoirse and I would only be able to have one child, ever, and that it would be up to the fairies when that child would be able to be conceived. Which is why your mother was an only child, not for lack of trying”

Finn and Saoirse shared a knowing look and then looked at me with a quite coy or smug expression.

To say that I learned more about my grandparent’s sex lives from that one sentence then I would ever care to know about would as I have often said on many another topic; an understatement.

Too. Much. Information.

“Fast forward to ‘69, your grandma and I miss out on the moon landing and we welcomed your mother; Doreen McCullough into the world.” Finn said

My eyes were still widened with the shock of that former sentence.

“Was everything past the second meeting with Queen Titania all that necessary?”

Saoirse smiled, Finn chuckled, and they both said “Yes.”

“If only for the sake of your own amusement?” I asked

“Only a little.” Saoirse said before returning to her seat and resuming her breakfast

“Reminiscing aside, is Daniel OK?” Finn asked, also resuming his breakfast

“He no longer looks diseased and he tossed out a few cases of beer.” I said “That and him accepting the invitation seems to point to him being back on the road to normalcy.”

Saoirse lit up, Finn got up to give me a pat on the back before filling up our cups with more coffee.

Once breakfast was done we began preparation for the small party; cooking, moving furniture around, making sure the bathroom was fully stocked, the house was tidy, etc.

True to his word, Mr. Hebert and Taylor came by at a quarter past eight in the evening and brought this Kurt and Lacey my grandparents mentioned. A fairly nondescript couple who seemed to be mother henning pretty hard on Mr Hebert, eagerly getting things for him when he clearly wanted to get it himself. Taylor seemed to find it amusing and it brought a little smile to me face seeing him let people actually near him.

Finn and Saoirse had mentioned as we prepared for the guests that they invited Martin and Makoto from the M&M Market over as well, I found out that their surname was Vargas. They couldn’t attend on account of their daughter just arriving back from visiting some of Makoto’s family in Japan and she didn’t want to drag down the festivities with her jet lag.

When I asked Saoirse why they invited the Vargas’ in the first place (and getting a smack for being rude) Saoirse replied

“Finn and I welcomed them to the Champion’s District and we come by all the time, just formed a rapport over the years. They even asked us to be their daughter’s godparents.”

I chuckled at the implication of my grandmother being a literal fairy godmother, or damn near close to it.

After I was done helping set up the food table and seeing Finn and Saoirse entertain the other adults, Taylor found me and dragged me off to a quiet corner of the house, no doubt to get those answers I couldn’t give her the other day.

“Here’s your weird rock and hair thing.” She said, handing me the charm back “Whatever you did worked, thanks for helping my dad.”

I gave her a hum and a nod in reply as I pocketed the charm, once the guests were gone I’d return it to the Atelier.

“I’m just gonna cut the crap and ask; What did you do? Are you a cape? Is that thing some kind of weird Tinkertech or Trump thing? What was wrong with my father?” she said quickly and all in one breath.

I let her catch her breath before answering plainly “I went inside your father’s dream, killed the monster that was draining him of life and making him isolate himself and be so aggressively irritable, no I’m not a parahuman, the charm is magic not a parahuman thing, and it was made by my late mother who I have recently discovered was a witch of some persuasion.”

The look on her face would have been amusing if I were joking, she blinked twice behind those round glasses of hers before answering. “I appreciate you helping and all, but please don’t fuck with me like that.”

I looked her in the eyes and answered “It’s the truth, even if I don’t entirely understand it. I’m not lying.”

Taylor let out a sigh as she shook her head and smiled. “You’re crazy, cowboy.”

She found a pair of chairs and sat down, I took the opposite chair.

“When I woke up this morning, my dad was sitting by my bed crying. As soon as he saw I was awake he gave me a hug and wouldn’t stop apologizing for…” Taylor shrugged “...Everything; withdrawing into himself, ignoring me, not seeing that I was hurting too, pushing people away. He told me that he was going to do his best to make up for how absent he’s been.”

Taylor’s green eyes shone with gratitude behind her glasses as she looked me in the eye

“Before this morning my father hadn’t hugged me since my mom’s funeral.” She said “Thank you, Walt. For whatever you did.”

I felt my face heat up and cursed my lack of head wear to hide under, I looked away trying to regain a semblance of my usual stoic demeanor.

Out of the corner, I saw her look away and take a sip of her drink

“So.” She said “Since we’re here and you know a little more about me then I know about you, mind if I ask you some questions?”

I nodded, hoping the small talk would be less awkward then me getting red in the face over a girl thanking me

“Alright. So, where are you from originally?” she asked

“Wyoming. Grew up on a ranch my Grandfather owned just outside of Owl Creek. ‘The ass end of nowhere of the ass end of nowhere’ my Grandfather called it. County we were in was the second least populous of the state.” I said, not sure how specific she wanted me to be.

“What was that like?”

“Well, aside from the occasional trip to the state capital or to Thermopolis where the county seat is, I could count the amount of people I saw daily on one hand.” I said, trying to lean back and relax into my chair but not quite finding the sweet spot “I miss the solitude and being able to ride around the ranch on the horses we had.”

Taylor seemed to no longer be as embarrassed as before and determined to ask more questions

“So what made you move?”

I knew the question was coming, didn’t quite know how to answer it.

“Grandfather sent me here. Didn’t tell me why.” While that may be true, I had a good guess.

“That sucks.” She says “You have any friends or extended family that you had to leave behind?”

Much easier question to answer

“No, Grandfather was the only family I had out there.” I said with a sigh “Didn’t really talk all that much with the ranch hands, and I only really had one friend. She’d pop in with her grandmother when she wanted to check up on Grandfather. Her name was Winona Standing-Bear, Winnie for short.”

Taylor looked down at her drink and then back up to me, leaving a second or so of silence before asking me more questions

“Were you two close?”

“Winnie was the annoying younger sister I never wished for but got anyway.” I said with a grimace “She would do everything in her power to drag me into whatever mischief and mayhem she was plotting and it often fell on me to get her out of the trouble she got us in.”

I let out a sigh and shook my head, thinking back on many a misadventure with Winnie “Still, she’s the only real friend I had back home. Can’t say I’ll miss the harebrained schemes she would whip up when she was bored, even if it meant having to leave the quiet of Wyoming for the hustle and bustle of the big city.”

Taylor chuckled and shook her head “So, where will you be going to school?”

“Winslow.” I said “Clarendon was full, Immaculata is too expensive and too stuffy, Arcadia’s waitlist wasn’t worth it either.”

I looked over to Taylor and saw her face cringing “I go there too.”

Ah. Awkward.

“What should I expect?” I asked more to soften the blow of awkwardness then anything

Taylor laughed bitterly before answering “Burnt out or useless teachers, kids in open gang colors, some of em dealing drugs more or less openly, others getting in fights with other gang kids, usually ends with someone having to go to the trauma ward. School got metal detectors to deter that kind of shit but those kept getting broken, we had a school resource officer but he stopped showing up, someone could get bullied in front of other people, even in front of a teacher and nobody would do a damn thing to help.”

“I would” I said, reflexively

“Even if the whole school would try to stop you, even if the person being bullied had the whole school against them?” She asked, no doubt rhetorically

“Yes.” I said, only getting a sardonic and sarcastic laugh from her

“You say that like you believe it Walt.” she said hollowly

“I make it a habit not to say things I don’t mean or making promises I can’t keep.” I said making sure to look her in the eye when I did “If you ever need someone in your corner, if you ever need help, call. I’ll come running. I promise.”

I meant every word.

Taylor’s face flushed a bit and she replied “I’ll hold you to it.”

I nodded and leaned back into the chair, giving up on finding the optimal position.

“I may know a little about your past, but I don’t really know anything about you as a person.” I said “OK if I ask a few personal questions?”

Taylor shakes her head and sighs “Do I have to answer all of them?”

I shook my head no

“Shoot.” she said

“So, what are your interests?”

Taylor chuckled and had a small smile on her face before answering

“I like capes.”

“As in Parahumans or the article of clothing?”

“Parahumans.”

To be completely honest, I never gave any serious thought on the subject. Aside from acknowledging their existence and knowing the odds of meeting one were rather slim I was pretty ambivalent

“Got any favorites?” I asked

“Armsmaster is my favorite local hero.” She says with a small smile and a bit of enthusiasm “He’s a tinker, rides around on a motorcycle, has this awesome halberd that has all sorts of tinkertech in it.”

“Got a think for motorcycles and medieval weapons, eh?” I said with a smirk

She gave me a playful smack on the shoulder for that “He’s the most heroic looking out of the Protectorate ENE, Alexandira is my all time favorite though.”

I didn’t have that many questions for her now that I thought about it, only one I could think of at the moment.

“Last question; coffee or tea?”

“I prefer tea over coffee.” She said “You?”

“Coffee” I said

We continued with some more small talk before rejoining the adults, nothing major. Things to do around town, stuff to look out for when walking around. That kind of thing.

I don’t quite know where we stand with each-other but I feel like I have made my first friend out here in Brockton Bay, gives me a feeling that things won’t be so bad out here. While we conversed, I spotted Evian giving me a wink from the window, I made sure to give him the finger when nobody was looking and before he slinked off to wherever he spends his time. With any luck, I wouldn’t be seeing him all that often.

Finally it came time to watch the ball drop.

As we counted down to the new year, I wondered what the new year would bring and knew that whatever happened I would face it head on and without hesitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, short one. There will be an interlude like I said once I get around to it, then we will be at Winslow an get into the nitty gritty. As always, thank you for reading. Have a good one


	12. Traffic Report #1 - 01/01/11

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♦ Topic: Traffic Report  
In: Boards ► Traffic Reports ► North America  
DoktorD (Original Poster) (Certified, Verified, and Death Defied DJ)  
Posted On Jan 1st 2011:  
Look Alive Sunshine!

It's the dawn of a new age people, there are new players on the board and they have already begun to make their move. The OGs are shaking off the dust and getting to their old shit, those that go bump in the night are getting bumped back, and a few curious kiddies are getting a late christmas gift of meeting their mommies and daddies

It's ya boi, Dr D here with your first ever Traffic Report; The Antimatter for the Master Plan!

Right now I'm up above North America and only got three stories across the three countries worth mentioning down there; Canuckistan, the USA, and the Estados Unidos De Mexico (yeah I know it's weird, it's like a salsa flavored America there!)

We're gonna start from the top and work our way down, starting with;

THE GREAT WHITE NORTH!

You have heard it here first people, that French Canuckistani NTR Sick Bastard, Nikos Vasil aka Heartbreaker is dead.

Yes I know, rejoice!

Heard from a very resourceful rat that him and his compadres pulled a little op that managed to murk the malicious malcontent.

Turns out that shadows don't have hearts to break, who knew?

Expect an official announcement from the Prime Minister within the hour, with the unclassified information detailed within, along with "a little something juicy" according to that resourceful rat.

Rrejoice ladies there's one less creep and a major super powered creep prowling the night.

On to the good ol' U S of A

The Town of Ellisburg, New York is now clear of the False Goblin King's hordes for there was one person Nilbog couldn't quite get. This comes straight from the horse's mouth children;

"Well, it took me a decade but I did it. Sumbitch was starting to get a hell of a lot nuttier, his freaks started dying quicker, and surprisingly made good eatin'. He almost got me a couple times, even got me in a sack to make me into the weird shit he made his freaks out of, but hey I got out. I'm alive, his freaks are all dead, made damn sure of that. Man, they sure screamed and bled pretty good!"

A certain shutterbug was first on the scene as this as of yet unnamed gent breached the walls with a sledgehammer in one hand and the head of the False King in another. According to this shutterbug, those PRT boys manning the wall freaked out mighty and almost blew his head off! Guy ends up screaming like a little girl and everything!

I'd say expect an announcement from the PRT about it, but y'all know they're gonna steal credit for it like they planned it. When they do you'll know who broke the real story.

Finally, good old Mexico.

Scattered reports of some weird shit going on in the following states (Estados for you Gringos, Gueros, and Gueys out there!); Baja California (Norte and Sur), Zacatecas, Sinaloa, Jalisco, Tlaxcala, and Yucatan.

What kind of weird shit?

How about whole cartel compounds being found completely empty, as if everyone got up and disappeared with no signs of struggle or swiftness?

Politicians suddenly getting very religious and breaking down crying on the steps of their local churches?

Oh, and El Presidente? Coming out and having an anti-cartel speech in the heart of Cartel country, Culiacan (can't put the accent from my current setup sorry children) and not having a single bullet fired in his direction?

A fuckin' miracle!

Even bigger miracle, all of this happened immediately after the clock struck twelve in their respective time zones.

Well, that's all I got for North America, once I float over another part of the world y'all will be hearing from me again.

Till next time, make some noise, make some friends, and make some memories. Cause there are gonna be quite the stories to tell this coming year.

Y'all can count on it.

(Showing page 1 of 23)  
►Thatdude  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
How the hell did they make a whole board just for one guys' shitpost? Nobody believes you dude! Where the hell is the flag option on this thread? Someone get the mods!

►Nod  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Yeah, this ain't the place to be posting BS like that. Hell I'd expect this from Void Cowboy

►XxVoid_CowboyxX  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Hey! I post way better shit than this!  
►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Uh guys...

He's right.

Sources; Here, Here, and Here.

►Aloha  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
what?

►Ne  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Oh crap, oh crap. Heartbreaker and Nilbog dead in the same day? I'm gonna keep an eye out for pigs flying!

►Mr. Fabuu  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Ok, OP's mysterious sources aside, how come he has those tags, and how the hell did he just make an entire Board? Nobody on the Mod team are responding to well anyone rn. I can't get a hold of anybody

►Space Zombie  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Oh shit, is this a hack?

►MadMod (Moderator)  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
Uhh. So, everyone else on the moderator team got banned and locked out of their accounts for 24 hours and I'm the only one who didn't. OP sent me a PM saying the following

"Child, your name is on point. For that, you get to be the mouthpiece."

According to him he managed to hack the whole site and we do not know how. He's given himself admin privileges and he's made this board where only he can post. He's rewritten a whole bunch of the site to run smoother, he called our code; "not even spaghetti code, it's more like linguine code", he cracked EVERY moderator, admin, and even the OWNER's accounts and essentially now runs the site.

All of the moderators tools that I have don't work anymore, my password was changed (and DoktorD was the guy who gave me the new one) and no doubt so was everyone elses, also check your spam folders. Sites gonna go down for "Maintenance" for 12 hours from noon Central Mountain Time and according to the email that the mods got the entire site is moving hosts, from our original host to a host that accoirding to all of our googlefu; DOESN'T EXIST

The new host;

109-In-The-Sky

That's all the information we as moderators have. Sorry. C ya

►Iblis  
Replied On Jan 1st 2011:  
uh oh...

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 21, 22, 23  
■

From: TinMother

To: DoktorD

Re; Site Takeover

TinMother: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY SITE?

DoktorD: Don't worry, Dragon. Everything is gonna be fine.

[DoktorD Has Locked his DMs, Ciao!]


	13. Days Gone By "A" Side

Broken/Reforged

01/01/11 

Director Emily Piggot of The Protectorate East-North-East checked her watch for what felt the thirtieth time, counting the fifth hour since she heard word of Nilbog’s demise and of a survivor at Ellisburg supposedly being the one to do it. She waited for the initial field report of the situation on the ground, tapping her fingers against the watchface impatiently, a cacophony of questions roared through her mind as she boarded the helicopter en route to the Ellisburg Quarantine Zone. An agent aboard the chopper handed a tablet to her containing the first response field report she had both eagerly awaited and dreaded. 

The survivor had breached the wall with a household sledgehammer, a feat that boggled the mind in and of itself with the QZ’s 13 feet thick concrete and rebar walls, a sheathed sword slung to his back and the head of Nilbog hanging from a length of old rope tied to his belt. The agents and capes manning the walls had all opened fire, believing that Nilbog finally decided to breach the walls, and the survivor had dove back inside the wall behind cover to safety while trying to explain that he was human and Nilbog was dead. After a tense thirty minute standoff, the agents on site quarantined the survivor and began recon of the zone, three hours of recon and a second opinion from the Think Tank later and the Ellisburg Containment Zone was declared safe to enter and clear of all threats. Throughout the ruined town were the charred remains of Nilbog’s monsters on pikes, crude signs taunting the self proclaimed Goblin King hanging from their charred necks, the rest of Nilbog’s body was found in a farmhouse north east of the main town thought to be Nilbog’s primary residence position of the body indicating he was decapitated while kneeling. All throughout the zone was pure devastation, land that was picked clean of life to make more of Nilbog’s creatures, homes defaced with the crude “art” of Nilbog’s monsters or destroyed outright, only one spot was completely untouched from the desolation of Nilbog; a small man-made lake surrounded by large rocks, a simple dock, and an island with a lone tree in the middle. This lake was filled with freshwater fish, plants, and even some of the immediate area surrounding the lake still had grass and trees and there was no evidence of Nilbog ever attempting to defile it as he did the rest of Ellisburg.

The survivor meanwhile underwent several dozen tests, to determine if he was affected by the countermeasures Nilbog had up his sleeves according to the Think Tank’s predictions all those years ago. The reports that had so far been completed showed no signs of contamination from biological or chemical weapons, several signs of past injuries that healed faster than they should have, and a rather advanced digestive system. Curiously, the brain scans showed no signs of either Corona Pollentia or Corona Gemma. This survivor was a mere mortal man, not a Parahuman. While this revelation brought a smile to Piggot’s face, it only raised more questions. How could a mere mortal man have survived for a decade in that hell? And how had he managed to defeat such a dangerous Parahuman? The end of the report said that aside from an agent that had brought out recording equipment, the survivor had refused to speak to anyone beyond stating that he would only speak with a PRT Director. Piggot would get her answers directly then.

As soon as the helicopter landed, Piggot was led by several agents to the QZ’s Command Bunker, where the survivor was being held in a retrofitted M/S Containment Cell. Piggot only half listened to the regurgitated information, her focus was entirely on putting one foot in front of the other and attempting to go into the interrogation, for what else could it be, with no expectations. Finally, she was at the entrance to the containment cell’s interrogation booth. Piggot took a deep breath, composed herself, and stepped through the door.

Towards the back of the cell, doing alternating one handed pushups, shirtless and barefooted, with a sheathed sword slung across his back was this survivor who demanded to speak with a PRT Director.

“Why hasn’t he been disarmed.” She asked one of the agents who entered with her, nametag said Briggs

“We tried ma’am.” Agent Briggs, poorly hiding how nervous he was “The sword kept flying back to him every time we took it more than a couple feet from him.”

Agent Briggs rung his hands together before saying with all the confidence of a frightened mouse “We kind of…just gave up after a while.”

The look of utter disdain Piggot gave to Briggs shattered what little spine he had left, leaving him to quietly excuse himself with his tail between his legs. Piggot took a seat at the console and activated the microphone control, a short squelch of feedback rang through the cell, its occupant paying it no mind.

“This is Director Piggot of the Protrectorate East-North-East.” she said with her practiced tone of authority “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

The survivor halted his pushups and looked towards the sole window of the cell, opaque from his perspective. He lazily came to a sitting position, slinging the sheathed sword across his lap and leaned against the walls of the cell. Piggot observed him, a slim and lean build, raggedy dark brown hair, scars all about his body, and rather unremarkable brown eyes. Despite how unremarkable his face was, Piggot would recall it for the rest of her life.

“Hey, I’m Dino.” his voice hailing from the deepest and thickest Brooklyn neighborhood “Didn’t think youse would’a listened to me. Good to know the silent treatmen’ still works.”

“Please state your full name for the record.” Piggot said, years of experience hiding the storm of emotion within

“Dino.” He said with a roll of his eyes “Russo.”

“Mr. Russo can you tell me why you felt the need only to speak to a Director of the Protectorate rather than the agents in charge at this facility?”

“Felt like it for one.” Dino shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the window “Also had a question that only a bigwig would be able to give me a straight answer on.”

Dino closed his eyes, opened his mouth as if he were going to ask but ultimately shut his mouth and shook his head.

“Later.” He said almost quietly “It can wait till later. You probably wanna know what went down exactly.”

“That is correct.” Piggot said “If you could begin with the initial attack from Nilb-”

“James Rinke. Fucker’s government name was James Rinke.” Dino said, swiftly and with a hard look in his eyes “He wasn’t no king, he wasn’t no goblin, fairy, monster, demon, devil or otherwise. He was just some fuckin’ random asshat who snapped and got powers. Don’t give him any more power or respect than he deserves.”

Piggot was taken aback, one for hearing Nilbog’s real name, and two for hearing someone demand that such a threat be referred to by their birth name and merely for the sake of denying them the power that their chosen name held. A pregnant pause filled the space between the director and the swordsman. Both survivors of a terrible event, one forever scarred by it and the other living it for a whole decade.

“Fine.” she said, breaking the silence “Can you begin with the intial attack by James Rinke?”

Dino cracked a smile “There we go.”

He smiled and sighed eyes closed in recollection

“See, it all started ‘round November. Ellisburg decided to hold a little event; a renaissance fair and medieval fantasy thing. One of the locals, guy who had a big ass property, made some fairgrounds and organized the event as a tribute to his late daughter. She loved knights, horses, tales of chivalry, the works. She had passed, cancer I think, a couple years prior and this guy wanted to do something to honor her memory and bring some joy in the world.”

Dino chuckled to himself and rubbed his neck, working out a kink

“That’s how I got dragged into it; me, some buddies of mine, came by to help set it up and do an exhibition for the crowd. We were from a HEMA school.” His eyes popped open and he held up a hand “HEMA stands for Historical European Martial Arts. Swordsmanship, pole-arms, that kind of shit. I joined in to it cause I was a scrawny thirteen year old kid who thought that swinging a sword and wearing plate would bring in the honeys. Who knew that I’d actually enjoy it and make friends there? Anyway; my buddy Virgil, roped us all into the damn thing. ‘Come on, could be fun, LARP for some dudes and maybe find some girls who are into this to play the part of a fair maiden for the first weekend of summer vacation, make some memories’ and being a bunch of teenagers who went to shitty schools where all the ratchet shit happens, there weren’t many girls into guys who played with swords and read Tolkien, Moorcock, Burroughs, or shit like that. So we all went ‘fuck it!’ and piled into Virgil’s van and took off for Ellisburg, don’t worry we told our parents, shit I should probably call dad and ma when I get out.”

A look of concern and surprise flew across Dino’s face, as if this were the first time he actually thought about his family. A shrug and a nod dispelled it.

“Eh, later. Either way; we drive out to Ellisburg Wednesday, I think that was the eight, we meet up with the guy who’s already got all the vendors, tents, and all kinds of shit setting up with no issues. The tourney is all that’s left and we meet up with the guy who started this whole thing, can’t remember his name I think it was Glen, and we meet up with him, we run through the shit we’ll be doing, get saftey checks, whole nine. Guy’s theme for the tourney was honoring his late daughter, got a big portrait done up of her in her favorite renfaire dress, put it up in the king’s booth and him and his wife were playing the king and queen, had this speech all prepared and he delivered it beautifully when day one of the tourney rolled around. So, me and Virgil are the ones who had to go out and grab snacks and drinks and shit for everyone on the setup days so we drove into town a lot. It was on these trips that we first saw Rinke.”

Dino’s grin fell, becoming a deep scowl.

“Apparently guy was nabbing pets, pests, and livestock for over a week or so before we showed up. I say that cause there was all these lost pet signs, farmers complaing about a lost pig here, lost chickens there. Anyways, Rinke was always wanderin’ round the main drag looking like a tweaker or a drunk out to get a fix whenever we saw ‘im. Me and Verge just played it off ‘Oh I guess theirs asshats like that out in the sticks too’ and shit like that. Aside from that nothing out of the ordinary happened, buddies and I helped set up, we went over what we’d do for the tourney, last minute we got the OK to bring in some jousting dudes with their trained horses.” 

His grin returned, his eyes closed in recollection once more.

“Man we thought it was sweet! Glen lit up and almost cried when he saw the guys in full plate with the jousters taking a photo with the portrait of his daughter. We all were kneeling and shit, thought it’d be a good gesture, one of the guys even shouted ‘FOR THE LADY!’ at the opening for the tourney. So, first day goes off without a hitch. Crowd rolls in, everyone’s having a good time, tourney’s good, games were good. Glen and his wife were having a blast too.”

Dino took a deep breath and opened his eyes, his face neutral

“Day two of the fair, Rinke started nabbing people from their tents. Once he had enough of his fuckin’ freaks he started storming the place. Had the corpses dragged off to somewhere, me and my buddies managed to defend ourselves somehow. We ended up chased back into town, he had his freaks sabotage all the vehicles and shit while we were asleep so the van was out, we holed up with a farmer and his family. Rinke fucked up all the phone lines so nobody could get word out and they was some accident with some cell towers so we couldn’t call out with our cells either. Farmer’s name was Chris Lambesis, his wife was Cathy, his daughter’s name was Grace, and they had Chris’ ma’ Peggy. You wanna know how I survived for so long? Chris showed us Ellisburg’s secret; a network of tunnels and bomb shelters the locals had been building in secret from the start of the Red Scare. They just kept adding on to them and making ‘em better up until Golden Boy showed up with that dumb ass loincloth diaper thing, hey it could have been worse guy coulda had his schlong hanging out in the breeze like a dumbass. See, Rinke wasn’t born and raised in Ellisburg, he only lived there because he couldn’t afford or find a place wherever he worked, there wasn’t a Bank there he worked at. Guy also did his damndest to make himself feel unwanted from what Chris told me, see he got it in one that it was ‘that weirdo yuppy banker’ that casued all this. See guy didn’t like the locals and tried to lord it over everyone, fancy car, fancy suit, that kind of shit. Guess when he lost his job he couldn’t keep up appearances and he didn’t want to accept help either. Must have got his powers when the debt collectors and bankers came to notify him of his foreclosure. I’m going off on a tangent but you get the gist; locals didn’t like him, he wasn’t a local himself, never found out about the tunnels. Chris and his family led us down there, Verge and I would go topside to find other survivors or food, maybe send help if the cell towers went back up.” 

Dino slowly pulled the sheathed sword across his lap and started tracing his left hand across the inlays of the sheath, eyes filled with contempt and disgust.

“Me and Verge got to see Rinke use his powers on a couple people. He would cocoon them with some shit that came out of his hands, liquify them, then absorb that goop and he would sculpt all of his freaks like that. A few times some dudes got out, but his freaks just-” Dino swiped his free hand across his neck “-ended them like that. We never found anybody to bring back, most of the food was gone topside, turns out Rinke could make that goop of his out of anything that was living. Plants, animals, people specifically. That was a hard week. Verge ended up buying it, leading a group of Rinke’s fuckin’ freaks away from me when we were on a run for some medicine for Grace. He died making sure that I got inside with that fucking medicine. I cried so damn long, woulda been fuckin’ loud too if I didn’t bite down on my arm.”

Dino pointed out a place on his right forearm, deep scarring from clearly human teeth.

“Then you guys, Protectorate, came by. Christ thought you’da brought the National Guard, State Guard, State Troopers, US Marshals, maybe some FBI dudes. Naw, turns out it was, what, two or three squads? A couple capes? Either way, Chris said we had to go for it, I agreed. We popped up topside, Chris and his wife had their guns, I had my training sword, a couple of my buds had some makeshift clubs. We wandered out, ended up running in to a PRT squad, they were getting’ overrun and we all tried to help. Most of the squad bought it. This one agent, she got hurt bad. We dragged her off to a spot and hid, patched her up best we could, asked if there was somewhere we could run too. Her radio was sayin’ the capes bounced and that they were gonna evac soon. Heard the damn horde coming, took a look at everyone else; tired, hungry, trying to make peace that they were all about to die being butchered up by a bunch of freaks. Told one of my buddies, Marvin, ‘tell my ‘ma and dad that I love em, tell my nonna that I love her and that I’d be meeting Jesus and nonno and tell them she loved ‘em. Ran out a bit, started hooting and hollerin’ can’t remember what I said exactly.”

Piggot did, vividly; “Anybody hungry? Got some prime Italian meat here, pastrami, salami, and enough balls to make a kickass sub!”

“-ran like fuckin’ hell, shouting, making noise, dunno how but I lost em and made it back to the tunnels.”

Silence filled the room, Piggot’s hand hovered over the micophone control for a beat before she pushed the on button

“Shelter aside.” She said, hiding the storm of emotion under a veneer of distant professionalism and authority “What did you do for sustenance?”

Dino chuckled hollowly

“Well, first two years I just did my tunnel rat thing and raided all the little emergency rations and shit the locals stashed or forgot about. Got water from that lake that Rinke never touched for whatever reason. There’s a hatch that was hidden amongst some big rocks, I’d grab water from the lake and boil it in my little bolthole. Once the rations ran out I got desperate, I had trapped a few of Nilbog’s freaks and cooked ‘em up. Like I told that agent with the microphone and camera; surprisingly good eatin’. Dry as fuck though. Even then, shit was lookin’ dark. Didn’t want to have my corpse turned into one of those freaks, hoped and prayed for y’all to turn Ellisburg into a damn parkin’ lot but that never happened. Couple of times I made a noose and tested a few spots to see if it’d be strong enough to support my weight. Obviously I never went through with it, but I came close a few times.”

“And the sword?” Piggot asked “Was it something from the fair?”

Dino smiled and shook his head

“Nah.” he chuckled “After year two, I found it at the bottom of that lake. Got spotted by a patrol of Rinke’s freaks. Managed to reach the lake and dove in, figured I’d wait them out or drown trying. Just swam as far down as I could, till there weren’t barely any light. Almost did drown, felt like I was fadin’. Right before I gave up, saw a glint of something.”

Dino slowly unsheathed the sword, a glorious ring as it was freed

“This sword’s pommel. I just reached out and grabbed it, dragged it outta the mud. Figured if I was gonna die, it’d be better to die fightin’. Came outta the water, sword in hand, like I was fuckin’ Aragorn, Elric, Conan, Kane, and every other literary swordsman out there. Barely had any real form, just kept swinging, sword cut through those freaks like a hot knife through butter. Eventually, the fuckers ran when more of their bretheren got saughtered. Dragged my ass back to the hatch and slept it off, still wet and everything. See, that night I didn’t have a nightmare like all those other nights. Had a dream, a woman. Most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. She said the sword chose me, chose me to find it’s rightful owner. Said he’d been missing that sword for a long ass time and that until I brought it to ‘em the sword would help me. Said it’d help keep me alive until I got the fuck outta there. Soon as I woke up, knew I couldn’t be on the backfoot anymore. Had to start taking the fight to Rinke and his freaks. Started training myself, gettin’ bolder on my raids, started doing my sword forms again, had dreams that were me doing action movie montage shit that helped me focus. Eventually, ol’ Jimmy Rinke found an entrance or two into those tunnels, he tried to drown me in waves of his freaks. Didn’t think I had already thought of that, left some traps, Arnie in Predator style. Got em in a chokepoint by collapsing a couple tunnels and fucked em up. Got to a point where he stopped sending raids my way, tried to placate me with whatever those fuckers considered food. See, I just ate the messengers and he tried sealing me in. Didn’t work, he didn’t know about the real outta the way hatches.”

Dino smiled and laughed heartily

“That’s when I got really bold, started puttin’ the fear in ‘em. Every time I’d get a couple of his freaks alone. Took some for meat, burnt the rest and put em up on pikes around corners on patrol routes. Hung signs off their necks. Baitin’ Rinke had an added bonus; his ‘children’ started thinking of me as the fuckin’ boogeyman. More I fought back, more the years flew by, more Rinke started falling apart mentally. His freaks started living shorter lives, he was runnin’ out of organic matter to make more with how much I was killin’, eatin’, and burnin’ ‘em. Then a couple months ago, I started makin’ a plan to take The Castle.”

Dino closed his eyes yet again, centering himself with a deep breath, and his mouth turning up in a genuine smile.

“Guy made Glen’s farmhouse his own personal fortress, had his meanest freaks there. His favorites too. Started scoping the place out, found out his most favorite freaks and then I made a plan. Lead him and what was left of his army out into the open and deal with him once and for all. See, Rinke’s favorites were a ‘mother’ and ‘daughter’ pair, they even talked. See they went out to their little well they collected rainwater and snow from. I was waiting, nabbed em, put em up on unlit pyres I set up outside The Castle. Acted like I wanted to parley or ransom them. His forces came out, he came out on the walls he made. Offered heaven and earth for ‘Polka’ and ‘Dot’, I even played along a bit. Told him if he could give me the lives of everyone he had killed then his children would go free. He tried to think of a clever way to adress it, got bored and lit those pyres up!”  
The cell filled with Dino’s rapturous laughter, the kind recalling an amazing concert or a night out with friends. Not setting monsters to burn alive.

“Man! They screamed, cried, ‘Father! Father!’ oh man! Got a kick outta that, Rinke started wailing too! Then he just screamed ‘Kill him! Avenge your bretheren!’ and it was on! Whipped out the sword, and just cut them down lke they were a field of wheat ready to harvest. I didn’t really have a plan beyond that, just wanted to end this bullshit once and for all and figured breaking his favorite toys would do the trick to kick it all off. Either he was gonna die, or I was. Just kinda slowly advanced through his ‘army’ and cornered that bastard in his little ‘throne room’.” Dino paused, looking Piggot directly in the eye purely by coincidence “All my life I’d heard that revenge wasn’t worth it. ‘Dig two graves’ and shit. But when I saw Rinke there, pissin’ hisself in fear, I made sure to look him in the eyes before I ran him through. I wanted him to know exactly who had beaten his ass’, tell him that this would be for every person he killed, tell him that he got beaten by a HEMA practicin’, Ren Fair goin’, fantasy lovin’ nerd from Brooklyn and that his victims would be avenged. Man that was priceless. I’d do it again in a hearbeat. Slept soundly ever night since.”

Dino held his chin and looked up towards the flourescent lights

“Motherfucker said somethin’ that didn’t sit right with me though.” He said, breaking himself of his recollections “Somethin’ he said before I ran ‘em through and cut off his head; ‘We’re all so small in the end’.”

Dino chuckled sardonically

“I don’t think he realized how fuckin’ retarded that was. Cause lemme tell you; it may seem like that when you’re staring at death and knowing you’re about to die. But it ain’t like that at all. His death, his life, his actions. Even after he’s gone will be felt for ages, they have touched so many people, for ill in his case, and will effect them long after they’ve forgotten. Don’t matter if you’re some cape like Rinke, or some bum with nobody. Your actions, they effected others, and they’ll keep effectin’ em. Don’t matter how small or big. At the end, you’ll have made waves. Those waves can get damn big.”

He looks around, then down at the sword in his lap. 

“I dunno. It’s stupid to be hung up on some asshole’s dyin’ words but, maybe that’s just provin my point.” Dino looked back up to the opaque window “OK if I ask you something Director Piggot?”

“Go ahead.”

“That agent, the one my buds and Chris’ family went with. They make it out okay, did she make it?” 

Piggot smirked to herself, devoid of mirth and humor. “They did. Although that agent sustained heavy injuries and her health had declined ever since. She sends her regards, saying she wishes she could have seen the only real hero at Ellisburg had made it out ok and that she will be eternally grateful that James Rinke is dead.”

Dino breathed out a heavy sigh of relief “That’s good to hear. Thanks Director.”

“Goodbye Mr. Russo.” was all Piggot could say, before taking her leave

Dino merely waved and closed his eyes to rest.

Piggot exited the booth, the Agent Briggs in tow. Once they arrived to the elevator down the hall, Briggs spoke and broke the comfortable silence

“Director. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He could find out on his own when he’s cleared to be released, Agent Briggs.”

The elevator doors opened, and Piggot was met with the frantic and panicked face of another agent

“Ma’am! PHO was taken over and the Ellisburg story got out!”

Piggot took this news with all the poise and grace of a bull in a china shop.

“WHAT?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK WAY LONGER THAN I INTENDED! THis was going to be a part of a larger interlude but sadly this could not be in a managable size, thus they'll be split into "A, B, C, and D" sides. I hope you all enjoy


	14. Days Gone By "B" Side

Dusk/Dawn

01/03/11 

Once again Taylor Hebert found herself walking from the closest bus stop to The Champion’s District, this time with the intention of acquiring something that would help her do something she never thought she would actually do; both making and actually committing to a New Years resolution. In this case, she was on her way to McCullough’s Music for a book on how to play the flute, after all her mother would more than likely want her to not have her flute go to waste especially with its recovery and repair by her eccentric neighbors and their odd grandson. This wasn’t a decision made likely and she did tell her father, who was surprisingly OK with this endeavor and fully supportive. At first she was quite confused, after all the very sight of her mother’s flute was enough to bring her father to tears prior to her father’s odd affliction and sudden recovery. A strange change in his behavior but a welcome one. Her father was keeping true to his word of no longer drinking and actually trying to be a proper father again, he was under the impression that it was his drinking that had made him become such a drastically angrier and more aggressive mess. 

The growling and rumbling of her stomach broke her thoughts on her father’s changed behavior, and she silently cursed her haste to leave the house without eating. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it; M&M ‘s Market. She still had quite the sum of money from that pompous ass had forced into her hand the other day, popping in for some snacks to tide her over wouldn’t hurt. Taylor walked to the market door, ready to satiate her hunger. Suddenly the door swung open striking her in the cheek and making her yelp at the sudden and quickly fading pain.

“OH SHIT!”

Evidently it was a girl who had recklessly opened the door. This girl was fretting over Taylor, entering her personal space and trying to gently bring her inside the market.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” the girl cried “Let me help!”

“It’s alright-” Taylor tried to reassure the girl that she was fine, hoping that she would stop touching her “-it’s not that bad, I’m fine”

The girl either ignored or didn’t hear her and continued fretting, gently bringing Taylor inside the market, much to her chagrin.

“Is anything broken? Oh my god, I don’t have insurance! Wait!” the girl continued her frantic and panicked spiel “I can get a part time job at the market and do the stock market! Wait I’m only fourteen I can’t get a part time job! I’m going to have to sell a kidney!”

Taylor had enough, she quickly grabbed the girl’s arms and brought them down to her sides.

“Stop! I. Am. Fine.” she said looking in to the girl’s dark brown eyes “It was not that bad. Please stop.”

The girl’s eyes went wide and then she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Yokatta! I’m sorry!” the girl said “I wasn’t looking when I opened the door.”

Taylor held up her hands, hoping to get this strange girl to stop

“Really it’s fine, I’m fine.”

The girl put her hand up to her face and bit her thumb in contemplation. Taylor took in her appearance; standing about her height, wearing a brown parka with the faux fur lined hood up, some semi-baggy jeans, and work boots. An ensemble more appropriate for a boy than a fourteen year old girl.

“Let me make it up to you” the girl said hammering her fist into her open palm

Taylor’s eyes darted around and she slowly attempted to back away from the strange girl

“Look, appreciated, but I really don’t think that’s-”

“Nonsense!” The girl interrupted with sunny cheer, taking Taylor’s hands in hers “I beaned you with the door, you clearly came in here to get something, allow me to make it up to you!”

Taylor continuously protested and attempted to get away, but this strange girl had a sense of gravity about her that she couldn’t quite escape. The girl guided Taylor to the plastic patio furniture by the restaurant section of the odd hybrid eatery and Asian market. Reluctantly, she took a seat

“Papí!” The girl cried out “Dos òrdenes de asada fries! On me!”

Taylor heard the cook laugh heartily, and salute with his spatula

“Sí mija, right away!”

The girl sat across from Taylor, unzipping and removing her parka as she did, revealing a black shirt with a yellow-red-yellow stripe across the chest and above that a squiggly white line with a dot above the rising squiggle on the right.

“My name is Lily, my parents own and run the store.” The girl explained, a flash of realization reaching her “You want something to drink? On me.”

“Taylor.” Taylor said shortly “Again, this is too much, you really don’t have to do this”

“Nonsense!” The girl said again with a wave, then grabbing a pair of half liter glass bottles of Coke from one of the fridges “Can’t have a meal without something to drink!”

Lily sat down across from Taylor, popping the bottle caps off with a bottle opener off her key ring before sliding Taylor’s bottle to her. 

“So.” Lily began “What brings you out to the Champion’s District?”

Taylor gave the strange dusky girl a look of utter confusion

“How do you know I was heading there?”

Lily chuckled and gave her a placating wave “It isn’t just that shopping center, that’s just the center. The four blocks around it are very much a part of it.”

Taylor shook her head in confusion, squinting her eyes trying to wrap her head around that. 

“That’s kind of weird. So it’s not just the shopping center, but the four blocks of unrelated businesses and offices around the place? Just arbitrarily like that?”

Lily smiled brightly “Yup!”

Taylor sighed and then took a sip of the coke “Alright, what do you know about this place? Cause before December I didn’t even know this place existed and I have lived here my whole life.”

“Well, it’s the kind of place you either find by total accident when you need it most or when someone tells you about it.” Lily said with a shrug “Kind of an open secret I guess. Nobody’s really hiding it or whatever, just one of those things that when you know, you know, y’know?”

She really didn’t

Before Taylor could continue with her line of questioning, Lily’s father came out from behind the grill and set down a pair of Styrofoam containers with wrapped plastic cutlery and several small plastic cups filled with sauces and chopped vegetables

“Enjoy yourselves señoritas, as always the papas were cut with love and pride, the asada was seasoned and grilled to perfection, and the salsas, guacamole, and pico de gallo have been made separate if you would prefer just the fries, cheese, and meat.” Lily’s father said with a flourish and the vague impression of a waiter at a high class establishment, clashing with the apron with many grease stains and casual clothes he was wearing.

“Gracias papí.” Lily said accepting a peck on the top of the head

Taylor opened the container, releasing a delectable scent of meat and potatoes instantly making her mouth water. Breaking the hunger trance she was in, Lily clapped her hands together and gave a mighty shout

“Ittadakimasu!”

Taylor cocked a brow at that, a strange word that she had heard Greg from school mention once; weeaboo. While she may not have been one hundred percent certain on the meaning, she felt that maybe this strange Hispanic girl may have been one. When she began eating however, Taylor’s expression changed to that of bile fascination. The girl tore into her food in such a way as to somehow just skirt the line of basic table etiquette but also still tear into her food like a ravenous animal. Absentmindedly, Taylor speared a chunk of cheese, meat, and fries on her fork and ate it slowly as she watched the girl devour the food. The simple yet elegant combination of the savory meat, the starch of the fried to perfection potatoes, and the melted cheese broke the trance upon her. Taking another experimental bite and savoring the flavor. Unlike the girl across from her, Taylor continued eating the delectable, and free, dish slowly and calmly. Lily took a moment to take a swig of her coke to wash down the food that had been reduced to smears of salsa and guac against the styrofoam container.

“Oishi!” she said after a very unladylike belch “So! What do you think about the big news?”

Taylor paused mid bite and looked at the strange perky girl 

“What do you mean?”

“You know, PHO getting hacked and stolen by some super hacker, Nilbog dying, Heartbreaker and his kids getting assassinated?”

Taylor was rather surprised at that sentence, three impossible things mid brunch. 

“Really?” She asked as she slowly closed the food container and leaned forward towards Lily

“Yeah!” Lily replied, digging through her pants pockets and producing one of those touch screen smart phones that had become popular in the last few years, on the back of it was a golden horn logo. “Check it out. Be sure to tap Bagrat’s links”

Lily handed the phone over, Taylor taking it gingerly and seeing a strange mobile version of PHO on the screen. Even if it weren’t a mobile version, Taylor recognized that the site had gone through several visual changes; for one there were a handful of new boards; Traffic Reports, The Art of Ass Kicking, an entire NSFW board that could only be accessed by people with accounts, and an anonymous segment that seemed indicative of that one website that got taken down when they started unmasking capes. The thread that Lily had on screen was the first of these “Traffic Reports” and had hit seventy-seven pages before being locked by the new head admin and owner DoktorD. Evidently DoktorD was also advertising one of the new features with his avatar; a looping gif of a hooded skull wearing rainbow shutter shades and lolling a rainbow tongue. Taylor clicked on the first link; a press conference from the Canadian Prime Minister.

According to the PM’s speech; the Canadian government hired an independent private contractor to assassinate Heartbreaker and deal with his Heartbroken. Heartbreaker was confirmed dead along with many of his Parahuman children, the Heartbroken that could be rehabilitated were taken to the appropriate facilities and in many cases reunited with their families, the Parahuman children that didn’t resist are in isolation and being vetted to see if they are fit to join society under new identities, or in the care of their mother’s family where appropriate. The Prime Minister attributed many mysterious deaths and disappearances around Canada and the United States to the independent contractor, saying that they had very reliable intelligence that they were all Heartbreaker’s agents and time bombs. What shocked Taylor the most was that the Prime Minister had admitted that his own daughter was among the Heartbroken that couldn’t be rehabilitated and had taken her own life, then giving a scathing dressing down of the Protectorate and the Guild. Saying that if they had been more proactive or competent, his daughter and the daughters of so many others would still be alive and free. The Prime Minister also had announced a massive scaling back of funding to the Protectorate and Guild and it being reallocated towards a laundry list of programs and further training to local and national law enforcement. 

Tapping the back button on the screen and following the next link, to a press release by the Protectorate regarding the events at Ellisburg, Taylor began reading, her eyes furrowed in intense concentration. Taylor read the press release at least six times over trying to squeeze as much information from the rather vague wording, the press release implied that the Protectorate had sent in an infiltration team to assassinate Nilbog with great assistance from a survivor that managed to survive over a decade within the Ellisburg Quarantine Zone that they made contact with under unspecified means. This contrasted greatly with the post by DoktorD that said it was all that survivor and the PRT did nothing. Taylor was more inclined to believe the Protectorate’s press release than some “super hacker” and knew that it was clearly the Protectorate finally able to take the fight to a monstrous villain. 

Taylor handed the phone back to Lily “That’s crazy…” was all she could say

“I know right?” Lily said with a smile and a nod “Everyone’s been talking about it, a lot more than all that crazy spoopy-spooky stuff down in Mexico. I mean El Presidente does a midnight address in the heart of Sinaloa on New Years, that’s pretty damn weird. How had you not heard about it?”

“I was cleaning the house with my father.” Taylor replied, recalling the surprisingly relaxing and comfy bonding experience “Fixing thins that were left aside for too long.”

“Makes sense” Lily said with utter sincerity before a look of shock replaced it “Damn! Got sidetracked, meant to ask; What brings you to the Champion’s District?”

Taylor shook her head and gave Lily a small smile, she noted that despite being quite similar to Madison’s facade of kindness, Lily seemed completely genuine. Normally she would be be wary of such people, hoping to blend in and be unnoticed. Taylor attributed to a sense of warmth about this strange girl, altogether she seemed like the sun after a particularly dreary and cold period of time. 

“I’m on my way to McCullough’s Music.” She said truthfully “Was hoping to catch Saoirse and ask her if she could help me get a book or something on learning the flute.”

At the mention of Saoirse, Lily brightened “You know my madrina?”

“I don’t know what that means.” Taylor said truthfully

“AH! Sorry.” Lily said, sheepishly “It’s Spanish for godmother, when I’m excited I start going in to Spanish, Japanese, Spanglish, Japanglish, or when I’ve been speaking Japanese for a while. Engrish.”

“Yeah, she’s my neighbor.” Taylor was yet again stumped by this very strange girl “You actually speak Japanese? You’re not some weeaboo or whatever they’re called?”

“Hai! To the first thing, not the second.” Lily said with a salute “I’m a hafu, my dad’s Mexican, mom’s Japanese. Martin and Makoto of the M&M Market!”

Taylor chuckled at the display of the girl’s apparently very genuine and natural positivity and radiance

“So, have you met Saoirse’s grandson yet?” Lily asked

“Yes I have.”

“What’s he like?” Lily said with lights shining with enthusiastic curiosity “I just got back from visiting my Baa-chan in Tokyo, and haven’t had the chance to visit yet.”

“Well, he actually works at their store whenever he can.” Taylor said with a smile “He’s probably there now.”

As soon as Taylor finished her sentence, Lily gave a deep gasp and then split her face with a wide smile. Before Taylor could ask if she was ok, Lily sped off to grab a plastic bag and gave her father a peck on the cheek along with a “Bye daddy!” before returning to the table and sticking one of the bottle caps back on to Taylor’s bottle of Coke. 

“Pack up your stuff.” Lily said, vibrating with excitement “We have to go now before we miss him!”

Cautiously, she did so. Lily then put her parka back on and took Taylor by the hand and dragged her out of the store with great speed. In what seemed like only a mere moment, the pair of girls were in front of McCullough’s and Taylor was almost completely out of breath. 

“You’re a lot stronger than you look.” Taylor said, giving Lily a glare “Felt like I was a damn kite in the wind.”

Lily only chuckled and gave Taylor a conciliatory pat on the back

“Sorry, I got a little excited.” She said with a big smile “You know, with legs like that I figured you’d be a runner. If you want a work-out buddy, I have a plus one guess pass for the gym I frequent.”

Taylor intensified her glare but mentally considered it. It would help if the Trio ever got back on their bullshit, and maybe this girl would make a good friend. Maybe.

Taylor walked past her new tentative acquaintance and through the door of the music store. Sitting at the desk was a rather bored and antsy looking Walt Connolly and a very strange black cat with a white spot on its chest was sprawled out over the front desk. Upon their eyes meeting, Walt’s expression changed to a small smile.

“Welcome back.” he said with a sigh of relief “Saoirse’s out and all I’ve already done everything I could possibly do in the store.”

Taylor looked at the cat and then back to Walt. “What’s with the cat?”

Walt glared at the cat and then gave Taylor a pained look “It followed me home and won’t leave me alone, Finn and Saoirse have decided that a pet would do me some good and made me adopt it.”

“Neko da!” 

“Oh right” Taylor thought to herself “Lily was here too.”

Taylor and Walt watched as this strange perky girl slowly walked up to the cat, uttering nonsense baby speak, and then cuddling with the cat to the creature’s joy

“Who’s this?” Walt said, for lack of anything else coming to mind

“Walt. Lily.” Taylor said gesturing from one to the other “Lily. Walt.”

At the second utterance of her name, Lily perked up and locked eyes with Walt. Her face splitting in a wide smile.

“Hello!” she said while embracing him tightly “It’s so nice to meet my god-nephew!”

Walt’s eyes went wide with shock and his posture stiffened. Walt’s gaze quickly went from his current trapper, to Taylor, and even the strange cat. Begging either Taylor or the cat for help

“Um. Excuse me miss Lily?” he said nervously “Can you please let me go?”

“Not done yet.” Lily replied, purring along with the cat that seemed rather smug

“Lily.” Taylor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose “He asked you to stop. Stop.”

With a pout, she reluctantly did.

“Console me neko-kun…” she muttered as she picked up the cat and embraced it “The hugging of my god-nephew has been cut short.”

Before the inevitable awkward silence fell between the three, Saoirse walked through the door beaming as she saw Lily and Taylor.

“Ah! I see the both of you have met Lily.” she said with a chuckle “Taylor, I was wondering when you would come in again. How can I help you?”

Taylor took a deep breath “I want to learn how to play the flute. Could you help me?”

Saoirse smiled warmly “As a matter of fact, I know just the person to be your teacher.”


	15. Days Gone By "C" Side

Black/White

01/04/11

Donnie looked upon the lightly falling snow out of the cab window, lamenting being unable to ride his bicycle through the streets. He was also doing his best to ignore the particularly chatty cabbie, he was going on about this that and the other. At the moment he was going on a tirade about the shakeups of American politics, the Ellisburg and Heartbreaker things were the kick in the taint as it were and every government alphabet soup agency were in a feeding frenzy while a handful of particularly ambitious and charismatic politicians were going into full campaign politicking with an enthusiasm not seen in over a decade. Donnie did not care in the slightest.

As the heir to the Rhodes fortune, a fortune made even larger and grander under the guidance of his father Donald Rhodes Jr on top of the already large and grand fortune that Donald Rhodes Sr. had made before him, he could live anywhere in the world and do anything he wanted. Hell, the laws of the land were of no consequence as far as he was concerned, his family had an army of lawyers and accountants ready to make sure everything was on the up and up and destroy anyone who tried to make it seem as if they weren’t. The Rhodes family secrets were nothing so horrifying or profane, they were not like the degenerate and twisted creatures that sought to court his or his father’s favor with their ties to the darker side of humanity and Donald Jr. was the kind of man who would put the fear of the old gods into any member of the family or acquaintances thereof if they put one toe out of line, his mother Yukiko Rhodes _ne_ _é_ Kuromizu was the same way when she was still with them. That former VP of his father’s sure did make a mess of himself after she whipped out that old sword of hers.

Checking his watch Donnie cursed how late he would be, by his own standards, and the inability of any cab driver to be able to actually reach the Champion’s District. Despite living in the city for the past five years he had yet to find a cabbie that could even park an inch inside that wondrous and untainted land, and the only city bus that had a stop there only ran from midnight to three am.However he did know several spots that could be used just shy of the border that could be stopped at without suspicion.

“Alright, we’re here.” the cabbie said “That’ll be-”

Donnie reached into his wallet and gave him two hundred dollar bills

“Keep the change.” He said cutting the cabbie off and ignoring the praises that were being sung to him “Thank you for the ride.”

Donnie quickly got out of the cab and took stock of himself as the cabbie drove off, his suit was still there, his beloved Pegaso watch was working fine, his wallet was stowed back into his coat pocket, and his tool kit was in his left hand. As for his cell phone, he was currently waiting on a replacement after a particularly poor day of experimentation. Well now he knew he would have to wear some form of insulation in future tests, live and learn. With his stock taken, he made his way to an alleyway he had routed as the most optimum and quickest way from this stop to the Champion’s district, although this would be the first time he would be walking it rather than riding it on his fixie. Either way, the brisk walk would be good for him and it would lend him some more time to think on his father’s rather intriguing revelations on the state of the world.

His “Good ‘ol pops” had took him aside new years eve and revealed so much to him when the clock struck midnight, it actually shocked him to the core. Finding out your destiny, and the reason for the world’s suffering would do that to you. Donnie had his plans for the future dashed but he did not loathe his new future, he relished it. If anything, this new future of his was better; who needed to live a double life at an attempt to make something of himself separate from his family’s business when he could indulge in his family’s true heritage and stand beside them as he should!

Maybe not too closely he conceded. After all, even prior to his father’s revelations he knew not to spend too much time with his grandmother’s side of the family. That way lead to very awkward conversations and many a snide remark from them to his mother, at least amongst this heads of the family. His cousins were nice though, especially Hedy, and uncle E and his wife were very nice. The rest of the family he’d rather not be alone with, his grandmother especially. Either way, by nature of acting as he normally would and take part in “The Scene” as it were he would soon join a long and storied tradition of greatness, all he would have to do is find some equally gifted people his age to band together and forge their own stories. Hell, he even had his alter ego set and ready, just needed to ease in to “The Scene” and then make that breakout debut with something big, Donnie thought to himself with a smirk

“Well, looky here boys.” said a rough and worn voice, breaking Donnie of his musings “This one looks like he has money…”

Donnie looked to the source of the voice, a rather crusty looking man with a strange gait and a bit of bony something sticking out of a worn and ratty newsboy cap. Reeking of drug dens, waste, and whatever passed for sex that such a vile disgusting bum performed. Flanking the one with the hat were more haggard vagrant types wielding makeshift weapons and Donnie knew that there were more behind him. Strangely enough, he saw something smoky and wispy prowling near a fire escape above him, it would seem that there was a Cape of some persuasion observing. The smirk only growing wider and anticipation growing within him.

“Evening gents.” He said with a nonchalant check of his watch “Sadly I don’t have time to join your nightly debaucheries, I have a…thing I’m running a bit late for.”

The gaggle of what Donnie assumed were those Archer’s Bridge Merchants laughed with weezing guffaws at his lack of fear. The apparent leader with the newsboy cap was the only one not laughing, stepping forward with an odd hop-skip and pointing an aluminum bat towards him

“Alright rich boy, you know how this goes.” he said, hunching forward in an attempt to intimidate “Wallet. Now.”

Donnie chuckled and shook his head “I take it you mean the money in the wallet?”

Newsboy groaned and banged the bat against the pavement

“No shit!”

Donnie casually set down his tool kit and grabbed his wallet thumbing out every last bill he had, a total of eight hundred and thirty dollars in various bills.

“Will that be all gentlemen?” Donnie said with a bored faux-sigh “I’d rather we make this quick and painless.”

Meanwhile above, the cape in question; Shadow Stalker observed what she saw as some rich idiot who thought he could buy his way out of everything. Still, she observed him wondering if that confidence and nonchalance would keep when these muggers went in for the kill.

Newsboy smiled evilly, showing his misshapen and rotten teeth

“Uh-uh-uh.” He said waving his bat “That watch, and that case are coming with us too.”

With that any trace of a smile left Donnie’s face and was replaced with a blank expression betrayed by eyes filled with anger.

  
“Care to repeat that, friend?”

Newsboy chuckled “What are you deaf? I said, that fancy watch and that case are comin’ too!”

Shadow Stalker leaned forward, anticipating the slaughter of prey. Donnie calmly put the bills back inside his wallet, and tucked it firmly into his coat’s breast pocket. The air grew thick with ozone

“Can’t do that I’m afraid. The case has some rather important equipment for that thing I mentioned, and the watch is a rather unique piece. A gift from someone quite precious and not something so easily given, even to save one’s own skin.” He said with a voice devoid of emotion “Now the moneys off the table. let me pass and I won’t get violent, satyros.”

Newsboy’s face went pale and he stumbled back in surprise, in a flash he raised his weapon and he shouted “KILL ‘EM!”

The muggers charged forward, Newsboy quaking with fear, Donnie stood as still as a mountain, and Shadow Stalker watched with contempt. Before the muggers could begin their swings, Donnie raised his right arm to the sky and snapped his fingers. From the dark and cloudy skies came a single bolt of lightning, striking just shy of Donnie’s thumb and splitting to strike every one who had gathered around him to attack. Each one had fallen down dead, the only people still standing in the alleyway were Donnie and the remaining mugger with the Newsboy cap, Shadow Stalker high above was observing closer and closer at this new cape.

“Now, wayward child of Pan.” Donnie said, picking his tool kit back up and slowly inching forward “Why don’t you tell me what asatyros is doing running around with mortals?”

Shadow Stalker listened in closely, trying to decipher the meaning behind this strange cape’s words, Newsboy had begun backing himself up against a dumpster, his bat fallen from his grip

“F-fo-forgive me, my lord theos.” He stammered, removing his cap and revealing curving horns “I-I did not kn-know tha-”

“Shh. No word of that here.” Donnie said, a finger raised to his lips “How could you know that we walked amongst men in these times?”

The horned man’s face lit up in hope “So you will forgive my transgression?”

Donnie chuckled and gripped his chin with his index and thumb in though.

“If you’d answer my questions first, of course.”

“Anything, my lord theos!” the horned man said bowing and prostrating himself

“How long have you been with these mongrels?” Donnie said, with an air of nobility “How often have you committed these acts?”

The horned man looked up from his bow “Not long my lord, several months with only two attempts per!”

Donnie walked past the bowing horned man with a hum

“Well, I think I can offer you mercy this evening.” He said with a clap “No harm no foul.”

The horned man began babbling and weeping tears of joy, speaking words of praise to Donnie.

“Thank you my lord theos!” the horned man said “You are too kind!”

“Truly I am.” Donnie said with a short bow

Before walking too far ahead, Donnie paused and turned his head to the still prostrating horned man.

“One last question.”

“Anything!”

“How many people did you leave ravaged and beaten in those several months?” Donnie said, his voice colder than the falling snow “How many women did you take satyros? How many debaucheries were committed by you, vro̱merós?”

The horned man’s eyes grew wide in fear

“My lord, I a-am no-”

Donnie spun to face him “You think by walking amongst this rabble that it would hide the stench of your curse? That you could hide your nature as you attempt to hide your horns and hooves?”

The horned man began to weep

“Mercy!” he shouted “You said you would grant me mercy!”

Donnie’s face grew a sinister grin “And I shall”

Donnie pointed his index finger towards the begging man, his thumb raised. Donnie lowered his thumb and a flash of light came forth, the horned man screamed in pain. Donnie began briskly walking towards his destination, no longer paying any mind to the burnt men.

  
Shadow Stalker opened her eyes, the blindness gone, and took in the scene; six men and one Case 53 burnt to a crisp making the alley reek of fried junkie. Despite seeing a cape wielding power over her weakness, she knew that he would be a partner on her night prowlings. An apex predator like herself and not bad looking either, she thought to herself. With her powers she glided to ground level and silently stalked her way to this boy.

Donnie however was more preoccupied with all that time lost and his performance.

“Note to self.” He said as he began picking up the pace “Next time speak casually, that bit of biblical babble is boring as balls.”

Donnie chuckled at his alliteration, paying no mind to his Stalker. He knew the route better than them after all, even with arcane abilities it would be difficult to navigate these alleyways. He would not even need to run. Shadow Stalker pressed on, eagerly pursuing, hoping for an opening to drag her quarry aside and show him that they were clearly not so different in their approach to the crime and filth of the city. Perhaps with his resources they could even loosen the leash that those weaklings in the PRT had around her neck. To Shadow Stalker it was a frantic chase after the perfect partner, to Donnie it was pleasant if brisk walk to an appointment he would rather not miss. Finally, Donnie saw the welcome sign for the Champion’s District and walked out of the alleys and across the street. Shadow Stalker, stuck to her namesake with her ability and followed as close as possible.

Donnie stopped at the door to McCullough’s Music, making sure to smooth out any wrinkles in his suit, straightening any loose hair on his head, and confirming that he was exactly on time. Taking a quick breath and putting his best face on, he opened the door.

“Good evening Saoirse!” he said with a jovial and flamboyant wave “You said you had me a new student for me?”

Saoirse giggled like a school girl and nodded towards a very familiar if somewhat distressed girl.

“Ah! The plain but leggy girl from a few weeks ago!” Donnie said with a clap “I see you have yet to use the money I had given you for a new wardrobe.”

Taylor gave the most unamused and “done” look to Donnie before looking to Saoirse for support.

“This idiot is the flute teacher?” She said with distress dripping from her voice “Saoirse, please tell me this is an early April Fool’s joke.”

Donnie strode forward between them with his tool kit raised.

“Nonsense kopelia!” he said, disengaging the locks on his case and revealing an engraved silver flute and several pages of sheet music “I am more than qualified to teach even the most fresh faced of beginners!”

“Donald Rhodes the Third. I know you don’t mean to come off like a condescending ass but you could put more effort into it.” Saoirse leaned over to face Taylor and put her hand to the side of her mouth in a stage whisper “Donnie here is something of a musical prodigy and he’s classically trained. He is actually the most qualified flutist to teach in the tri-state area. Even if he is socially inept.”

“Not only that! I am doing this pro bono!” Donnie said with a deep breath and a twirl “It would be a sin to ask someone with so little anything in exchange for the gift of musical training, let alone from one as talented and gifted as I?”

Taylor stammered and stalled, trying to convey that she would rather not have such a pompous ass for a teacher but failing in the face of such camp.

“There is no need for thanks!” Donnie said leaning back in faux distress “I only ask you to put your maximum effort in to our lessons!”

The front door opened with a chime, Finn and Walt coming in. Seeing Donnie, he let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Rhodes, please stop harrassing the customers.” He said trying his best to not say what he meant to “Make your purchase and leave quickly, there is a music teacher on their way.”

At the sight of the cowboy, Donnie set his tool kit down and strode forward to embrace him.

  
“Wally! Babe! You do have a sense of humor!” he said with electric excitement “I’m the music teacher, silly! Now I have plenty of time in my schedule to teach you as well, but I must attend to my new student first!”

Donnie span in place, and pointed to the girl in question

“Your name? I can’t just call you ‘that plain but leggy brunette’ for eternity now can I?”

Still dumbfounded, she stammered forth and braced herself against the front desk mentally reevaluating her life choices.

Seeing how this was going, Finn walked between master and student and quickly introduced the two and ushered them to the soundproof room with a viewing window. “Donnie Rhodes meet Taylor Hebert.” 

Within the soundproof room Donnie waited for his new student to compose herself, flights of fancy running through his mind. 

  
“Surely Taylor will become quite the flutist under my careful guidance! One day even playing Carnegie Hall or even the Budokan!” he thought to himself “People will praise her in interviews where she will praise his teaching which brought a clueless novice up to the highest levels of music and to the world’s greatest flutist of the generation!”

Finally seeing her compose herself somewhat he began his lesson

“Alright, first you must learn how to breath. BUT CIRCULARLY!”

Meanwhile, in the shadows cast between the grand entrance sign and the faulty streetlights outside, Shadow Stalker had seen it all. Her perfect partner, consorting with that weakling Hebert. Hebert actually smiling at the old fogies at the desk and that idiot looking cowboy. 

Sophia Hess brooded and let the anger within her fester, there was no doubt in her mind at the punishment she had in store for Taylor Hebert. For the first time in her life Sophia thought to herself

“The first day of school couldn’t come fast enough.”


	16. Days Gone By "D" Side

Civil/Savage

01/08/11 

Finn had me on gopher duty again today, this time to just outside the unofficial border of the Champion’s District. Taylor had explained it to me as Lily had done to her, four city blocks around a shopping center at the point where all four blocks meet. Or at least, that seemed to be the conclusion that she had come to. Lily was rather vague about it when I asked her in detail and she would only explain more if I allowed her to hug me. She had attempted to guilt me into letting her hug me anyway after I told her that I was not prone to embraces of any kind. I just don’t enjoy physical contact in the slightest. My task was simple; get sandwiches for everyone in the store at this bodega that Finn swore by. Finn wanted a french dip, Saoirse wanted tuna on sourdough, Taylor wanted a BLT, Rhodes wanted a Reuben, and I got a club. Lily was busy at the M&M the past few days and wouldn’t be joining until later and she was rather excited to meet Taylor’s music teacher. 

As I waited on the order’s completion, I thought on the madness of the last week. On the Second, Evian had popped into the house and told Finn and Saoirse that he was here to stay and they welcomed with open arms. Apparently mother was rather open with her craft around them on account of Saoirse being a selkie and Finn already knowing about the supernatural beforehand. Was a load off my mind as I wasn’t fond of keeping secrets. Still, the damn cat was amusing himself by sitting on my chest as I slept and staring me in the eyes when I woke up. I would also spot him in my peripheral vision whenever I was out and about, hopefully he would at least not do this while I was at school. Knowing him he’d probably do his damnedest to distract me in the middle of class. 

Rhodes was now a constant fixture at the shop to, and I have loathed every second of his presence. Everything about him seems to be purposely crafted to get on my last nerve; mannerisms, choice of cologne, stealing my hat, getting my name wrong, violation of my personal space, stealing my hat, implying that I need a new wardrobe, saying that I need to speak more, stealing my hat. The worst part of it is that all this exposure to him has slowly acclimated me to his presence and now I can seem to decipher the meaning by his catastrophically poor choice of words. Saoirse was right; he grows on you. What she neglected to mention that he grew like a fungus. As for the lessons he was giving Taylor? He decided that for the first week of lessons he would teach her every two days, today would be the third lesson. According to Rhodes, Taylor was coming along rather well and learning quickly. Taylor on the other hand was unconvinced. Not having the ear for music myself and being unfamiliar with solo flute pieces or the proper learning curve of the instrument, I asked Finn and he said that being able to play Fur Elise competently after only two lessons and three days of practice was as he put it; 

“Pretty damn fast.”

As I am loathe to admit, Rhodes was quite the teacher. Even if he were an insufferable ass that never got my name right and would not stop STEALING MY HAT. 

That was neither here nor there, the order was done and I was on my out. I rounded the corner of the street, bumping into a girl about my age.

“Sorry.” I said on reflex

“What am I gonna do…” the girl was muttering to herself, acted like I wasn’t even there.  
Normally I’d do the same after giving the obligatory apology but there was something that caught my eye about the girl, primarily her clothing. Strapless top, denim skirt, a light coat meant for spring or early fall, and some kind of faux-skin boots. What possessed a girl to wear such light clothing after a few days of snowfall? Those hairpins make her seem younger too. Just another city thing that I won’t understand nor care to. Before I could turn away, I saw something I didn’t like. Three boys about my age, wearing bright red and green, and all of Asian descent all giving this distracted and distressed girl the look a wolf may give a roe that gotten separated from its rangale. As presumptive as it was, Donnie, Lily, and Taylor all had given me the rundown on the three major gangs in the area and these three seemed to fit the Azn Bad Boy dress code. I stood and watched, hoping something else would catch the attention of this vermin. Unfortunately this would not be the case, they smelt easy blood and began to follow the girl. 

This would not stand.

I began a brisk walk, hoping to both remain inconspicuous and catch up with my quarry. The filth were casually limbering up, the tall and lanky one on the right had a folding knife partially released and hidden by his palm, the short and fat one on the left was cracking his knuckles, the average one in the middle did nothing but his posture and gait screamed arrogance. Taking on multiple assailants would be difficult without a weapon even in an ambush scenario like this. My eyes darted around trying to find something I could use to tip the scales in my favor, I still had the multi-tool Taylor had gotten me but I didn’t need three more faces to haunt me. Along the way there was a vagrant taking a deep swig of a bottle of cheap wine. I dropped the sandwiches and snatched the bottle out of his mouth with the now free hand, ignoring the drunk’s impotent cries of protest. I dumped out the remainder of its contents as we walked and then held it in my right hand like a club. The three wretches caught up to the girl and dragged her into a nearby alley and I ran up to catch them, by the time I got close enough the girl was screaming and the vile worms were trying to pin her down.

I strode forward, the bottle in my hand raised, and shattered it over the middle one’s head seeing him crumple as if his strings had been cut. I threw the ruined bottle into the shocked face of the one on the right, distracting him, Number Three on the left was too dumbfounded to do anything, his neck was wide open and I clutched it in my hand and brought the back of his head against the brick wall seeing him collapse in pain and disorientation as I let go. Number Two threw a wild overextended thrust of his pocket knife, I grabbed him by the wrist and twisted till I felt and heard bones snap. While he screamed in pain I brought my steel-toe to his raised knee with as much force as I could, bones breaking with a sickening crunch. I turned to Number Three, he was staggering to his feet, holding on to the open lid of the dumpster to brace himself, and not looking where he should. I ran over and slammed the dumpster’s lid on his exposed sausage fingers and stared at him clutching his broken fingers. His eyes went wide with fear as I stared him dead in his eyes, no doubt filled with my anger. 

“Y-you’re go-gonna reg-g-gret this white boy!” The fat fuck said in a poor attempt to be intimdating “ABB gonna fuck you up!”

I answered him with a kick to the gut, several in fact. I kept kicking until he went into the fetal position and wept for his mother. I went over to the other two and checked their pulses, fortunately they were still alive but I didn’t want to leave them in this alley to die of exposure. I rifled through the leader’s pockets and found his phone, luckily an older model with a keypad rather than those new smart phones I had heard about, I dialed 911

“911 emergency response.”

“Three ABB members are in an alley currently suffering head trauma and broken bones. Send an ambulance.”

I tossed the phone on top of the weeping one and finally looked over the girl. She appeared uninjured and physically ok, however her eyes were wide in shock and she looked about ready to start hyperventilating. 

“Hey.” I said to her with my hand reached out “We should get out of here.”

The girl slowly grabbed my hand and I helped her to her feet, seeing as how my sandwiches were now being enjoyed by a bum and I still had the money I wasn’t spending from my paycheck sitting in my wallet, going back to the bodega to get this girl someplace warm where she can call someone to pick her up was the clear course of action. I didn’t bother giving her a rub of the shoulders or a half embrace, It would have only made things worse with how uncomfortable we’d both be, but I still firmly held her hand while she had it in a vice grip. I didn’t say anything to her beyond telling her to take deep breaths to regulate her breathing as we walked. When we got to the bodega, I guided her to sit down at the sole table and chairs by the window then went to the delimaster’s counter ti reiterate my order. I told him I lost the one he just made me, gave him a twenty in his tip jar for the trouble. 

I sat down across from the girl, tears were coming down her face and smudging the light makeup she had but she wasn’t sobbing. To be honest I don’t know if that was a good sign or not. I’m the first to admit when I’m out of my element and dealing with distraught people, women and girls especially, is as far from my element as possible. 

“Is there…” I started awkwardly, shaking my head as I said it “...someone I should call for you, to pick you up?”

The girl shook her head no “My brother works late, parents aren’t in the picture.”

I pressed on

“Any friends I should-”

“I don’t want to talk to any of them!”

“Would you like something warm to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Something to drink then?”

“Not thirsty.”

I let out a sigh and looked over to the delimaster’s food prep line, the sandwiches would be done soon and would give me the out I needed to leave this situation. As I tried to get out of my seat the girl lashed out and grabbed my arm

“Please don’t leave.” She said, her voice cracking and her eyes pleading. “Please stay.”  
I let out another sigh and mouthed “One moment please” to the delimaster as he hit the order bell.

I eased myself back down to my seat and looked the girl in the eyes.

“Madison.” she said “My name’s Madison.”

“Walt.” I replied

“You really shouldn’t have helped me Walt.” she said, more tears shedding

I assumed she was referring to how she was dressed or some such, I thought that kind of mentality had died out a while ago. Shame it still lives.

“That’s-”

“I would have deserved it. I fucked up so bad.” She said, her voice cracking “Anything they would have done to me would have been too little!”

Madison was sobbing now, I grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser on the table and pushed them to her. 

“There are helplines for suicidal depression.” I told her “They can help with whatever-”

“You don’t understand!” She cuts me off, her voice not quite raised but no longer quiet. “It’s something at school. I-”

She blew her nose and tried calming herself with deep breathing. She stopped to look out the window catching the rushing ambulance passing by, no doubt on its way to help those three in the alley. 

“There’s a reason I don’t want to call any of my friends.” she says after sixty seconds of silence. “My friends and I, we’ve been bullying a girl at school. Badly.”

Oh. I steeled myself, hid behind my mask of stoicism

“How bad?” I asked, hiding the further anger slowly rising.

“This girl, let’s call her Jane. Like ‘Plain Jane’ y’know?” she chuckles hollowly “Started small, stupid shit like minor name calling, maybe a small trip in the hall, steal a sheet of homework or a pencil. It started escalating though, we’ve been at it for almost two whole years.”

Madison blew her nose once more, grabbing some kind of moist towelette from her purse and wiping off the makeup on her face. She took off her hairpins and set them down on the table, her eyes betraying the tumultuous thoughts that were no doubt rampaging throughout her mind. 

“Started with two girls in one of my classes, popular ones. It was the beginning of the year, I wanted to fit in with them, so I joined in and they would let me tag along.” Another hollow laugh “Regular girl posse! Earth Aleph Mean Girls all the way!”

The hollow smile left her face quickly

“I thought it would stay at the basic schoolyard hazing, you know?” she sobbed “Then the other girls, the first two and the ones that came in the picture later, started tryting to one up each other. We started doing things like destroying any assignments she was trying to turn in, sent her nasty emails from the school network.”

Madison looked into my eyes, fear and regret clear in hers and I hoped she could see the rising contempt in mine.

“Getting violent.” she said quietly and weakly

She looked down to the hairpins on the table

“If anyone tried to back out or say otherwise, the rest would pressure them into going through with the latest fucked up thing we could do. I stopped saying anything otherwise, just went along with it every step of the way. Anything to maintain my spot with the ‘it girls’ I guess.”

Madison wiped her nose and gave a small blow. 

“Then it just stopped. Week before winter break started. Like that.” She snapped her fingers for effect “I thought it was finally over and that we were all gonna move on with our lives or move on to someone else from scratch.”

“Then on the last day before break, got a text. Mass text to our whole group. ‘get as much of the douche bags, used tampons, pads, anything else of that kind and bring em to school after dark.’ I won’t lie and say I didn’t bring any.” She scoffed then resumed crying and sobbing “I was telling myself that this wasn’t going to be another prank on Jane or whatever.”

My face twisted in a sneer, my mask was slipping and I didn’t care. 

“So we broke in to the school, one of the original two girls ‘Simone’ got us in.” she looked in my eyes again, either not noticing or not caring that I was clearly not having a damn thing she said. “We shoved all of that disgusting shit into Jane’s locker. Left it there to rot over break.”

Madison leaned down cradling her head in her hands, her weeping and sobbing became slightly louder.

“The other of the original two, Emilia, said it was just so we could surprise Jane and take pictures and video of her reaction.” Her voice hitched with every sob “She always hated Jane the most, they used to be friends and now she has this weird thing where she has to make Jane suffer. That’s why I know that they’re all going to do something really fucked up.”

Yet you didn’t do a damn thing to stop them.

“I don’t know what to do. If I do nothing, a girl is going to be hurt and fucked up for the rest of her life.” Her sobs and crying became more haggard and violent. “B-but if I d-d-do som-someth-thing, then it won’t even matter. They’ll do something just as b-ba-bad to me! What do I do?”

It should be obvious. The right thing to do is clear. This thing doesn’t see the answer? Well. I may as well spell it out to her. 

“Stop fucking crying for one.” My face had become twisted in the deepest sneer possible and my voice came out a growl. The pitiful waste of flesh looked up and finally saw my sneer, fear filled its eyes “If you are expecting any sympathy for your predicament or absolution for your actions, you will get none from me.”

“At the end of the day Madison you have two options; do nothing or confess.” I said it as politely and as evenly as I could with how livid I was “Confess and hopefully whatever ‘prank’ your ‘friends’ had in store for this Jane girl is ultimately prevented and you take the punishment like you should. Or do nothing, knowing that if that girl doesn’t make it out whatever sick and twisted thing you helped bring about is on you.”

I got up from the table, not bothering to put my chair back, and got my order. I stopped myself before I left, still had one thing to say to her as cliché as it would be. I looked her in the eyes.

“Evil flourishes when good people do nothing.”

With that I left, leaving the weeping and pathetic girl behind. Hopefully never having to see her again.

My mood soured, I trudged my way back to The Champion’s District trying to snuff out my anger and not worry my grandparents or Taylor. It more than likely wasn’t going to work, but anything would be better than coming in to the store mad as hell. As I walked under the welcome sign I stopped and spotted someone strange and unfamiliar. 

Another girl about my age, half a head shorter than me, athletic build, black hair, darker skin tone, looks three steps from starting a fight, wearing dark athletic clothes under an unzipped tracksuit, and once again creeping a look into the shop. She had been spying on the inside of the shop off and on whenever Rhodes was giving a lesson. Just what I needed, an admirer of his loitering about and scaring away actual customers. Perfect opportunity to channel the leftover anger.

“If you don’t plan on going inside or buying anything. I’d suggest you leave.” I said with cooled and tempered anger “We do not appreciate loitering around here.”

The girl looked me in the eyes, hers were filled with pure rage.

“Free fuckin’ country.” She spat.

“You’ve been stalking one of the clientele.” I replied, prepping for her coming in for the intimidation “That nasty expression doesn’t help either. Again, I’m asking you to leave.”

Sure enough, she faced me and stalked forward attempting to make me back down as she got closer.

“Or what?” The girl was trying to lean in to me, get in my face, hard to do when you aren’t as tall.

“Simple. I get security to make you leave.” I said shortly, leaning down close enough for our foreheads to touch “Done asking. Leave. Now.”

We stood like that for no longer than six seconds. Neither of us wanting to be the first to break the stare or this test of dominance. Unlike her, I don’t need to blink. 

She broke first, looking away and letting out a huff

“Whatever.” she muttered before storming off. 

I watched her leave, making sure she actually did. Soon as she was out of my sight I walked to the shop. Taylor was in the practice room, Rhodes was giving her the third and final lesson before school would drop their lessons to one day a week, I didn’t see Lily or Saoirse around, and Finn was at the front desk flipping through a catalog. He looked up as soon as the door opened and gave a bit of a concerned smile.

“There you are Walt.” He said “Took you a while, what’s eating you?”

I shook my head and simply said “Trouble.”

Finn didn’t pry and the scent of the sandwiches were enough of a distraction that he wouldn’t give me any more looks of concern for the foreseeable future. He got his French dip, I grabbed my club. Taylor waved to me from the sound room with a smile, something about it put me at ease and returned it. Rhodes popped out of the room with an exaggerated sniff.

“I smell dip, rawhide, Marlboro reds, and of course the scent of sweaty manual labor!” He exclaimed with an exaggerated sniff “Oh and sandwiches! Come along Taylor, it’s lunch time!”

I rolled my eyes and tossed the plastic wrapped sandwich to the foppish idiot then held out Taylor’s BLT. Rhodes almost fumbled it, Taylor brought up a couple chairs and sat down on one and beckoned me over to the other. 

We both unwrapped our sandwiches and took our first bites almost simultaneously. Hard to go wrong with a club, but hey it was better than average.

“Hey this is pretty good, they even got the bacon just the right level of crispy.” She said after swallowing. I nodded in agreement.

Rhodes had taken a massive bite out of his Reuben and proceeded to talk with his mouth full

“Sho, fwhere is this Lily at?” He said in between bites “I’m cure-yus”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Rhodes.” I shot him a glare for good measure “They didn’t teach you that in charm school?”

He gulped down the food he barely chewed and let out a belch “I’m home-schooled and no.”

That explains a lot.

Taylor shook her head and spotted something in the window, her eyes growing wide in recognition. I twisted around, thinking Rhodes’ admirer had returned, luckily it was only Lily with her face smooshed against the glass, that I would have clean, and waving.

“There she is.” Taylor said with a small chuckled  
Rhodes’ eyes bugged out, I don’t quite know what he saw but it was mighty surprised and for once had shut up.

Lily came in with her usual grace and poise, almost taking the door clean off.

“Sorry I’m late guys! Store got hit with a big order for a little office party and we had to make a small catering order in, like, the span of three hours short notice!” She shouted, she was wearing some kind of merchandise from some show she wouldn’t stop gushing about. Common Riders or something to that effect. “Mom and Dad thought it would be a good thing to try once, they seemed to have fun making so much food, meanwhile I had to run the register then help carry the stuff to some dickheads car. Guys name was Brad Prairie, Meadows, Glades? I dunno some foresty flowery last name like that. Guy had shitty tattoos and a bad attitude.”

She shrugged off her jacket and left it in a crumpled bundle on the desk, then looked over the still shocked Rhodes.

“So this is Taylor’s flute teacher huh?” she said with her hand outstretched for him to shake “I’m Lily Vargas, what’s your name?”

Rhodes quickly composed himself and had wide and genuine smile.

“Konbanwa, obaa-sama.” He said with a bow “Namae wa Donald Rhodes-desu”

Lily seemed surprised and so was I, guess neither of us expected him to speak Japanese. Who would?

“That’s pretty good!” She said while returning the bow with a smile “Although you got it wrong, it’s onee-san. Not obaa-sama. I’m not your aunt or your grandma.”

Rhodes chuckled and said “No I meant what I said.” with a big beaming genuine smile

Lily’s smile left her face and then looked over to Taylor and I.

“He’s one of those kinds of jerks ain’t he?”

I nodded and Taylor simply said “You have no idea.”

Rhodes just laughed it off

“I think we’re gonna all get along great!” He pulled Lily and I into an awkward hug “Hey! Tomorrow’s the last day before we all have to go back to school, what say we all hang out and get to know each other better, eh?”

Lily started smiling again, not in a way I liked either

“That sounds great!” Her eyes were almost twinkling with the shine of a small sun “I can finally show more people the badassery of Aleph bootleg tokusatsu!”

Saoirse decided now was the perfect time to return from...wherever she was.

“That sounds like a great idea.” She said with that genuine enthusiasm of hers “We can close up the shop and you four can stay in the backroom while Finn and I do some paperwork up here!”

I looked over to Finn for any assistance in getting out of this but he was nodding in agreement. I looked over to Taylor, thinking that she would say no but the look on her face said otherwise.

“I’m okay with that.” She said quietly and with a small smile “Sounds fun…”

“Then it’s settled! Wally, you’re coming too don’t even think of backin’ out!” Rhodes proclaimed with a finger to my gut “Pizza and drinks on me!”

I sighed in resignation and simply said “Sure.”

Lily and Rhodes cheered and did a celebratory shuffle dance, Taylor applauded, Finn and Saoirse laughed heartily, and I? I just sat there and ate my sandwich, feeling a strange and comforting warmth come over me. Tomorrow would be the first time I ever had an outing with, dare I say it, friends aside from Winnie. 

Sounded nice.


	17. Posts from PHO; Art of Asskicking #1 & #2, and Ancient Aliens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some sidestory being crossposted from the SpaceBattles, SufficientVelocity, and Questionable Questing threads,

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**♦ Topic: Doing (in) The Nasty!  
In: Boards ► The Art of Asskicking  
TJ_On_The_Moon ** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Posted On Jan 5th 2011:  
DENIZENS OF THE WORLD!

The Mists are parting out there and there's shit that the Lamestream can't or won't tell you about and The Protectorate can't Protect you from.

That's what this board was made for; to teach you guys how to kick that shit's ass.

My name is TJ, I'm one of the old heads that knows whats out there and we all just got the OK that we get to Masque off! Of course fat chance of anyone believing us, hence this board. Believe it or not, if you read this board and keep the information to heart you may just save someones life.

Maybe even your own

We're going to start with something that you club rockers and party animals have probably already ran into; A Nasty, or Vro̱merós in Greek.

Those of you who ever studied Greek Mythology know about Satyrs right? Dionysus' buddies, cloven hooves, goat horns, love to drink, dance, sing, fuck, and generally have a good time? Well a Nasty is their crackhead homeless cousins who don't believe in bathing, safe sex, consent, not taking hard drugs, not sharing needles, and are in general unpleasant to be around.

All of these guys used to be normal Satyrs until they took their partying way to hard, by Satyr standards that is. Taking a hit of meth, or catching an STD while in the midst of their usual inebriation won't be enough to make a Nasty. Doing all of that in the same night and doing it WILLINGLY while SOBER? Yeah, Satyr's now more than likely a Nasty. Most of the time Satyr's drown them in boiling oil and be done with it but they have been known to skedaddle as soon as they realize what they did.

Now you're probably asking yourself; "TJ, these guys don't sound so tough. They sound like the average homeless junkie but with fucked up legs and horns"

Yeah, but these are mythological creatures hypothetical duder. They are WAY more than atypical appendages.

Nasties have two tricks up their track mark laden sleeves;

You ever see a bunch of people flip the fuck out for no reason at a big party like a rave or at the club? Smell something really disgusting and then suddenly the biggest mass of people there start doing shit they normally wouldn't? That's a Nasty working their own bit of magic; they can make people go into a Frenzy just by focusing (as difficult as that is for these degenerates) hard enough.

Luckily there's a way to beat it; willpower. Plain and simple, you have to will yourself over your own base instincts. You have to WANT to not be a disgusting vile sack of shit. For some that'll be as easy as breathing but for others its impossible. Theres a trick that I know the fellas use to not pop one in gym class; think about something that is an instant turn off. math class, your grandma in a g string, Zion in nothing but a gimp suit and a cock sock (HE SAID IT WITH A Z YOU IDIOTS!) you get the idea.

Now for their second trick; the older and more experienced of these sick fucks can actually WEAPONIZE THEIR UNHOLY ODOR. Yeah these fuckers can make themselves smell so bad they can make you vomit uncontrollably. How do you counter it? Wear a gas mask and maybe hose em down with a fire hose or a super soaker filled with some kind of deodorizer.

Other than that? Yeah these guys are as squishy as your average joe.

Shoot em. Stab em. They die.

(PLEASE NOTE THAT THEY CANNOT DISGUISE THEMSELVES OTHER THAN WEARING LAYERS YOU FUCKERS BETTER CONFIRM THAT THEY ARE ACTUALLY NASTIES AND NOT COSPLAYERS OR SOME SHIT)

Seriously, take their headwear off and maybe pants em to confirm the goods. Wear a hazmat suit when doing it, you don't wan't to catch like ALL the STDs and maybe leprosy.

  
  
**(Showing page 1 of 69)**  
  
**►Ne**  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
I was wondering when someone who could ACTUALLY MAKE A THREAD ON ONE OF THESE NEW BOARDS would post in it and see what thios threads about  
  
anyway  
  
FIRST  
  
**►Vista** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Oh great, now this site is advocating murder. Just so you know we're gonna catch you and bring you to justice!  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Oh shit I forgot that Starborn posted on here too.  
  
Anyway, not murder kiddo. The shit that goes up in this thread (ONLY POSTED BY VERIFIED ASSKICKERS) is only for self defense purposes. Like I said in th eOP; confirm before y'all go Van Helsing on a motherfucker.  
  
As for Starborn; your powers are not guaranteed to work on them the same way as another Starborn or a regular Mortal.  
  
Luckliy for you; I got it on good authroity that spacial fuckery like yours is probably gonna work fine on one of those things. Dunno about your buddy Gallant tho.  
  
Stay strong Starborn!  
  
**►Vista** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Starborn?  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Don't worry, that will make sense later.  
  
**►Bagrat** (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Ok, This is a little odd timing.  
  
So apparently last night in Brockton Bay, a bunch of bums were found fried to a crisp by a freak lightning strike. Right next to a flash fried individual who fits the description of a Satyr but smelling far worse (even discounting the scent of fried bum)  
  
This one of those Nasties, TJ?  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Got in one! Can't say who or what done it in. I ain't omniscient, and nobody I know or work with is. Where there's one theres usually a couple more. I'd up your usual avoidance of the homeless, junkie, and trailer trash from a 5 to an 11 until a couple more come up dead.  
  
**►XxVoid_CowboyxX** (In Horny Jail)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Wait so are there...  
  
female satyrs?  
  
asking for a friend...  
  
...ok the friend is me.  
  
**►MadMod** (Moderator)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Ok, time to flex a new temp ban tool. BOOP!  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 67, 68, 69**  
  
  
**(Showing page 2 of 69)**  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
My condolences to your libido.  
  
Short Answer: Kinda. They're called Fawns, you won't find one unless they want you to find them. Also, fair warning - odds are they'll break your pelvis.  
  
Also pray that you're not TOO good. Death by snu snu.  
  
**►Mane Magenta**  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
...  
  
OK. Now I now why you have to be 18 to make an account now.  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Journalist) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Hey he asked, also LOVE THE NEW TAG! thx @DoktorD  
  
**►Whitecollar** (Cape Wife)  
Replied On Jan 5th 2011:  
Good fucking god what has happened to this site...  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 67, 68, 69**  
  


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**♦ Topic: Monsters; Fair Folk; Spring-Heeled-Jacks  
In: Boards ► The Art of Asskicking  
Mori_Corvus ** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker) (Corax MC)  
Posted On Jan 9th 2011:  
Let me start by saying I don't give a rat's ass if you idiots believe any of the posts we make on this board.

Got that?

Good

Contrary to the press of the day, Spring Heeled Jack was not a demon and he wasn't one person.

Spring-Heeled-Jacks, as they were named by the Victorian London Press, are a breed of the Fair Folk that made their first appearances in The World around 1830 and then reported by Mortal press in 1837.

They are Fair Folk that stick to urban metropolitan areas with abundant alleys and verticality. Their motives vary greatly; some prefer to merely scare small children and steal trinkets or baubles, some prefer to explore the dark and abandoned corners of cities and emulate the urban explorers and parkour enthusiasts, and a troubling amount more prefer to stalk and hunt Mortals for some sick sport.

Regardless of what they do, they will do it as cruelly and with as much malice as possible.

Some important information regarding these creatures;

  1. Spring-Heeled-Jacks stand at three feet tall at the shortest and four and a quarter feet at the tallest.  

  2. Their skin is jet black and they perspire an oil like substance that allows them to slip through even the most narrow of spaces.  

  3. They carry knives made of a material that cannot be found anywhere in The World and cut better than any knife made by Mortal means.  

  4. Their maximum jump height is twenty feet vertically and/or horizontally  

  5. They enjoy talking, a lot.



What can you do if you encounter them?

If unarmed, run. If armed, make sure to lead your target. Either way you need to make sure you make every action count, they can out pace any Mortal and their natural coloration makes it very difficult to attack them in their preferred hunting grounds of light-less alleys.

Being Fair Folk they have three particular weaknesses of note;

  1. Iron will burn them on contact and the pain will be excruciating enough to give you an opening to either finish it off or run  

  2. Any kind of cream will make them especially inebriated and if you somehow manage to catch wind of a spot they will ambush from, leave out bowls of cream and they will greedily drink it down and be too drunk to fight back. Don't bother trying to placate them as they attack you, they'll just take the cream after they kill you.  

  3. Strawberries on the other hand they will find irresistible and will chase any that are thrown nearby. The fresher and the less processed the better.



  
That's it.  
  
**(Showing page 1 of 27)**  
  
**►Morgan Sinister**  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Wait, isn't Fair Folk another way of saying fairy? We're supposed to be scared of Tinkerbell now?  
  
**►Tumbles**  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Wait you don't mean like Grimm's Fairy Tales Fairies right?  
  
**►Mori_Corvus** (Original Poster) (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker) (Corax MC)  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Spring-Heeled-Jacks are Unseelie and that should be enough, if that's not enough then read a fucking book.  
  
**►White Fairy** (Veteran Member)  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Ok this is going to sound rich coming from someone with Fairy in their name, but what do you mean @Mori_Corvus?  
  
**►Lasersmile**  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
I KNOW THIS!  
  
Fairies are divvied up into two courts. according to Scottish folklore  
  
You got the Seelie Court who are more or less benevolent but still very dangerous to deal with. I've got a direct quote right from one of my books on the subject!  
  
"The Seelie Court were described as those fairies who would seek help from humans, warn those who have accidentally offended them, and return human kindness with favors of their own. Still, a fairy belonging to this court would avenge insults and could be prone to mischief. Seelies were known for playing pranks on humans and having a light hearted attitude, forgetting their sorrows quickly and not realizing how they affect the humans they play pranks on."  
  
Basically think A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Then you have the Unseelie Court who are lean towards the malevolent but not exactly Evil per say. Again a direct quote;  
  
"The Unseelie Court, conversely, was used to describe the darkly-inclined fairies. Unlike the Seelie Court, no offense was deemed necessary to bring down their assaults. As a group (or "host"), they were thought to appear at night and assault travelers, often carrying them through the air, beating them, and forcing them to commit such acts as shooting at cattle. In Scotland they were seen as closely allied with witches. Like the beings of the Seelie Court who are not always seen as benevolent, neither were the fairies of the Unseelie Court always malevolent. Folklore includes stories of Unseelies becoming fond of particular humans if they are viewed as respectful, and choosing to make them something of a pet."  
  
My guess is these are the most Unseelie of the Unseelie court.  
  
**►Noveltry**  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Ok, so in the last one @TJ_On_The_Moon called Vista a "Starborn" and said that (what I assume) Parahuman powers won't always work the same way on stuff like Nasties. Does the same apply to fairies @Mori_Corvus?  
  
**►Numbah1Celtaboo** (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 9th 2011:  
Forgive my kinsman, he's not big on the internets and we kinda forced him to make an account in the first place and getting him to post twice was a chore in ajnd of itself. Yeah @Mori_Corvus won't be replying.  
  
He also has been punching my arm whenever I tell him that there are people asking for more info.  
  
It's starting to bruise!  
  
Anyway, short answer; yeah.  
  
From the few times that our fellow Verified Asskickers have seen Starborn encounter actual fairies (and not some fucking poser like that OO-lame chick) I can tell you that "Master" powers won't work at all. Everything else? Probably fair game depending on what it is and where you are.  
  
If you are in side the realm of the fairies, then you are SOL for everything but good old physical shit.  
  
ALSO do not lie to them, do not try to weasel your way out of a deal, and FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE GODS DO NOT RESPOND TO THE QUESTION  
  
"May I have your name?"  
  
WITH YOUR ACTUAL NAME!  
  
Say something like "You can call me X" and you will be able to walk away with your identity intact.  
  
Also, never party with them if you value being a person and not turned into a tea cozy or a dog or something.  
  
And with that I have a hot date with a member of House Fiona, and I shall leave you all to wonder what the hell I mean by that.  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 25, 26, 27**  
  


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**♦ Topic: Mythology Exposed!  
In: Boards ► Conspiracy Theories ► Ancient Aliens  
Procto the Unfortunate Tinker ** (Original Poster) (Not a tinker)  
Posted On Jan 7th 2011:  
CAUTION: LONG POST AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Alrighty then, never thought I'd ever jump down a rabbit hole this deep or ever actually admit it, even on the internet.

So, ever since that "Art of Asskicking" thing, I got thinking. What else is real?

So if we take TJ's post as 100% Fact; Satyrs and their crackhead cousins are real, then does that mean the Gods (in this case the Hellenistic Pantheon) are also real?

I mean, the simple solution is that they were ancient Parahumans and that this shit happens in cycles or something but I figured I'd actually dig into this and do a little research.

My sister in law is a Mythologist and loans out a lot of the books she's picked up over the years to us if we ask. So I took her up on that and just spent an entire friggin' day reading through so many papers, books, journals, etc.

Luckliy she was able to help me find the more obscure stuff and even made me a cup or three of coffee

THANKS SARAH!

Anyway, I spotted some stuff that looked weird to me. I asked my sister-in-law about it and she just laughed and sent me a bunch of links to some conspiracy theory lists that probably put me on a list somewhere.

I am not talking that bullshit "There's a secret society of capes influencing the world and selling powers in vials" tin foil shit. The conspiracy theory in this case is in the friggin' title.

So I have spotted at least six instances of what could very well be evidence of either Ancient Parahumans or Ancient Aliens, they also had huge surges of worship in the modern day and throughout the time America was colonized and then became the United States, coming along with the various immgrant groups or whatever. I'll go into the gist of their depictions and my "evidence" along with how people venerate them now.

Let's get into it.

First off let's talk Norse Mythology. A lot of you guys in Europe and in Brockton Bay have the unfortunate tangential learning of dealing with criminal organizations who took on Norse Paganism's trappings as part of their white supremacist BS, hell Allfather got his name form Odin the king of the Norse gods.

Here's a quick rundown, the Norse Gods can be divvied up in to two camps you have the Vanir who are peaceful gods of health, fertility, etc. and then you have the Aesir the gods of war and violence. There was a war between them and then there was peace, bringing the two camps together as one united pantheon. Odin drank from the well of wisdom and gave up an eye for it as well, with this wisdom he witnessed the end of the world; Ragnarok. So the entire pantheon knows the worlds gonna end but keep going anyway, if they meet a way to change it then cool, if not then who the fuck cares the end times is kicking off with the brawl to end all brawls.

Within the Aesir, you have the god Thor right? Wields a hammer that only he can lift, almost drank the entire sea once (long story), fights giants for fun, all around nice guy. So he has children right? Magni and Modi who will go on to survive Ragnarok, Thrud his only daughter and only child born to his actual wife Sif, and he has a stepson named Ullr. Now here's the deal, there is a really obscure son by the name of Donner (or Donar) that many attribute the stuff he did to Thor.

Why? Because the guy barely shows up in either the Prose or Poetic Eddas at all and only as glorified footnotes. Where we get the most information on this Donner guy where he isn't lumped in with his dad is through pictographs in certain archaeological sites and accounts taken by Catholic Missionaries who tried to convert the Vikings. According to those records Donner was the god of lightning itself, where he struck first his father Thor soon followed. Donner was Lightning, Thor was Thunder. Still with me? Good.

He wielded a weapon called Giantsbane, a weapon described as being "An iron stave with a strange cog affixed to the center, Donner would move a smaller branch of the stave with his thumb, moving the strange cog and letting out a strange click, and Giantsbane would soon then shoot forth lightning"

Sounds kinda like a gun don't it? Now before you guys instantly say "You're crazy" how about I show you those pictograms eh?

That looks like a big fuckoff revolver don't it!? How about his "chariot"?

In the same accounts, Donner is described as "driving a horseless chariot or wagon, made from iron, wheels as black as night and becoming the clouds as it flew across the sky."

Horseless Wagon? Like what they used to call cars eh?

So in the Germanic countries in Europe, Donner got really popular with auto manufacturers and mechanics and it is still custom to this day in these places to hang a plaque above your workshop or garage with the phrase "Donner bless my shop" written in elder furthak. When Heavy Metal came, Donner was front in center on many an album cover and many a song. Y'all probably remember Yngwei Malmstein's hit single "Donner's Chariot" hitting pretty big, especially with the vinyl's cover art. He got a sizeable following amongst American metalheads and neopagans and yes even mechanics. If I remember correctly, they were like the only group the fucking pearl clutchers didn't try to decry as satanic. Maybe it was because they all decided to go into automechanics?

Moving right along to the Greeks, the Hellenistic Pantheon, the Theoi. Most of us know them from shit like Clash of the Titans, the Earth Aleph Disney Hercules movies, etc. and we all more or less get the gist of the main guys

Cliffnotes of these dudes; their family tree is a family circle, Zeus is the ultimate horndog and has sired many bastards, they are insanely petty, and all are the absolute masters of what they do.

Now an obscure god in the pantheon springs up in relation to the Goddess Aphrodite; Adonis Rhodos.

One of her many children, he is the odd one out on account of having no recorded father in ANY record. In myths about him, he is mentioned "to have one from a faraway land across the sea to the west and to have a lover waiting for him far across the sea to the east."

Now that's all well and good but you're probably asking right about now "Procto what is he the god of and why does he have a surname unlike the rest of the pantheon?"

Good question imaginary person who I shall call Timmy

Adonis Rhodos is the only member of the Hellenistic pantheon to have a surname and he is the patron god of Love, Loss, Fidelity, and Wealth. All of his myths involve him bringing lovers who are separated by misfortune or tragedy together safely, rewarding those who stay faithful to their spouses, and teaching economic theory (yeah I know it sounds boring). In myths where he appears along the other gods, he is often depicted as on the side of humanity and never taking offense to what mortals do and never brought mortals down for their hubris, instead trying to educate them into changing their ways.

According to historical record he had a sizeable cult on the island of Rhodes and some claim that he himself laid dominion over it during the Mycenean period. His festivals were basically like modern day Valentines day where married couples would do expressions of fidelity and love, younguns took their shot at love by asking out their crushes, and those who lost loves mourned and honored them. Hell, this guy got so popular with people he almost deposed his mother as the chief god of love but sadly the greater cultural zeitgeist of the time pushed back and even attempted to burn down the city of Rhodes in retaliation.

Much like Donner he is depicted in artwork and in his myths wielding weapons resembling modern firearms. In this case; a pair of pistols. Magazine fed, according to the websites that I cited they are speculated to be either a pair of Taurus Pt99 or Beretta 92 variants. Regardless of the platform they are called Eros and Anteros, love and hate.

Adonis Rhodos gets lumped in with fellow son of Aphrodite, Eros (Cupid in roman) because of his choice of weapon doing essentially the same thing (he shoots you and you fall madly in love with the first thing you see, he shoots you with Anteros and you hate the first thing you see). He is depicted with wings and according to the few busts that have made it to the modern day (Here, Here, and Here for those of you interested) looks almost exactly like Donald Rhodes Jr. or Brad Pitt if you squint a little. Hell, Rhodes has taken pictures in Greece at the Parthenon with the only full statue of Adonis Rhodos and posted it to Nymphstagram! A lot of the conspiracy sites I hit claim this is him admitting he is the god incarnate or some shit. Big if true.

Throughout history, Adonis Rhodos was venerated by artists and playwrights the world over. Hell, William fucking Shakespere put him in Romeo & Juliet! I mean that scene usually gets cut in many productions because of how out of place and how the pacing is off, but he gets name dropped frequently throughout anyway! I think that Aleph modern take on it (Romeo + Juliet) kept it in just because of the fact that he has guns. In Rhodes they still celebrate his festival to this day and it's a tradition to toss a coin with your lover's name on it into the fountain at where his temple stood for luck. Here in the US he's often in Valentines day decor along with the roman depiction of his brother. Yeah that guy with the wings who's always hanging with cupid? That's Adonis Rhodos.

Moving on further East, we have the gods of Egypt. I can't fucking pronounce their arabic or ancient egyptian names so forgive me when I use their greek names.

So once apon a time there was Ra, king of the gods. One day he got old as shit and is retired. He says to his son Osiris "Hey son you're in charge now" and Osiris is all for it, but not his brother Set who throws a bitch fit and chops up Osiris into little pieces. Osiris' Sister/Wife (Gods commit incest a lot btw, dunno if you caught on) Isis gathered every last bit of him except for his dick (but it's ok she made him a bigger and better one out of gold that still worked!) and then used her magic to resurrect him. So in celebration of not being dead they get it on and find out that his new goldmember only works once. Ah well, either way Isis is now preggers with Osiris' successor Horus. She hides somewhere while Osiris distracts Set and eventually Horus is born and grows up to whup his uncles ass and take the throne.

Now there are a handful of accounts where Horus has a son of his own who founded one of the first organized law enforcement agency in historical record. We are talking beat cops, detectives, rudimentary forensic technicians, et cetera. This god's name is Harishar and yes he has a gun, although there's no magic powers and the few statues of the guy don't give any detail to it. I haven't found any myths of the guy, but there are historical records and even passages of the bible that reference him (or possibly his ancient police) being fair and just even to the ancient Hebrews that lived under the rule of the Pharaohs. He was said to patrol the Nile with his barque and would check in with every chief of police and make sure that they and their subordinates stayed true to their vows as officers of the law. Any who broke those vows were enslaved or executed by hanging. That is often reported in historical record btw

Would you believe that he is the only Egyptian god still actively worshipped in Egypt? Yeah, when Islam became the dominant religion in the Middle East his followers kept the faith alive and still venerated him in secret. Hardcore Islamists don't like it but he's kind of the ideal Cape before capes were a thing. There were like twelve movies made in Egypt based on a comic strip based on adventure novels based on the old Harishar myth and they all made BANK! You won't find a police precinct in Egypt that doesn't have a plaque with the old hieroglyphic tenants of the old police hanging somewhere and the National Egyptian Police's banner has him on it. Now when people from that part of the Middle East started emigrating over here to the States and a few of them or their kids became cops, they brought little copies of Harishar's tenants and often still utter a prayer or to when they go out. A few American cops actually picked up the habit in New York City, it's why the 13th Precinct's banner has a cop in an Egyptian headdress and has the first line of Harishar's tenants along the bottom.

Further east yet again, we move to Japan. Also much further along the timeline of history then the last two. Within shintoism's many kami there is a major kami that didn't get a lot of stories of her own but is referenced a lot.

Gimui-Kuromizuhime (The Dutiful Princess of Black Water) or just Kuromizuhime. Daughter of the god Susano-oo, niece to the chief goddess Amaterasu. She is actually depicted in Japanese myth as a fierce warrior and was one of the wielders of the Kusanagi, the Grasscutter, prior to Amaterasu granting it to one of her own children who would go on to become the first emperor of Japan. So despite being revered as one of the major kami her shrines aren't that big. According to the few records we have this was by design as Kuromizuhime preferred to be revered on the road with few frivolities. Her shrines are where you get something that many historians believe was a holdover of Chinese mysticism; shrine tablets. Kuromizuhime is the patron kami of divers, travelers, smiths, youthful rebellion, and self-actualization, so people would go to a shrine to her and buy a tablet of her and carry it with them on their journeys and they still do it to this day. She was also the patron goddess of Onna-Bugeisha.

"Wait, Procto!"

Yes Timmy?

"She doesn't have a gun like the last three, why is she considered an example of an ancient alien?"

Good eye Timmy, she doesn't have a gun. But she does have this

"Is that?"

Why yes Timmy, it is in fact an ukio-e (dated circa 1634) painting depicting Kuromizuhime and her "Iron Horse" or as we call it a fucking street bike, crotch rocket motorcycle. That's not the only time she's depicted with it either, in none of her myths is she described as having an iron horse but its always in artwork depicting her that she rides one.

Unlike the first three gods, Kuromizuhime's worship never really took off until the modern day. I mean, sure her shrines are always visited and didn't get fucked with during WW2, but she didn't start getting really popular till about until the mid 1950's. See Japan's first big motorcycle manufacturer (Mishima Automotive) named their first (and to this day most popular) line motorcycles the Kuromizuhime in her honor. These babies ran like a dream and were relatively inexpensive at the time, so the Bosozoku gangs took to them like a fish to water. Quite a few of them even had her on their gang colors, the really violent ones didn't last long while the "Honorable" ones still go on to this day even after all the gang crackdowns of the 70's on. Natch, when Leviathan sunk Kyushu and the Japanese diaspora brought a lot of Japanese immigrants, her followers brought Kuromizuhime with them and there is many a shrine to her wherever there are Japanese and Japanese Americans. Harley Davidson, Indian, and Confederate Motors worked with Mishima Automotive to bring back the old '52 Kuromizuhimes through their own variants to raise funds for the relief (The Harley Black Water, Indian Hime, and the Confederate GKMH). She is also referenced in MANY Anime and Manga out of Japan (both Aleph and here in Bet) and even had her own animated picture in Aleph that trounced Disney's Mulan! I also heard from my niece that a lot of middle school girls started buying the tablets and hanging them off their backpacks or even trying to emulate her hairstyle from the aleph movie.

Don't worry theres only two left. We go so far East we've hit the Americas!

Did you guys know that the one thing that the Aztecs and many civilizations that followed in that part of Central and South America had was medical advancements? They actually had an EXTENSIVE medical apparatus for the day and even had a grasp on germ theory and sanitation. It's why when the Spanish came that the first people in Montezuma's court to speak with the Spanish were the royal physicians asking about their medical history. According to the Aztecs, they had a god by the name of Itzli Ocelotl (Obsidian Jaguar in Nauhatl) that taught them medicine and how disease was spread. They even had fucking medical journals and an entire medical school that doubled as a small city! According to the few surviving records and myths, The Obsidian Jaguar was the son of Tezcatlipoca (although some claim that he was actually the son of Quetzalcoatl) and contrary to the rest of the Aztec gods was the least violent of the gods and demanded no sacrifice in his worship. He supposedly taught the Aztecs how to safely and cleanly perform surgery, prevent disease, and even how to make medicines that we still use to this day like acetaminophen and aspirin. He was also a god of prophecy, the stars, and the moon.

Not gonna lie he's the one I have the least faith in actually being an ancient alien, so the Aztecs had fairly advanced medical practices for the day, big whup.

Much like many other mesoamerican mythological figures, he got bundled in with Catholicism and Christianity when it got brought over. Supposedly he still pops up on earth from time to time and is often venerated as a folk saint whenever he does. He is pruported to have been El Niño Fidencio, San Pascualito, Don Pedro Jaramillo, and various other similar folk saints. Doctors across Central and South America often hang paintings of him in their offices for luck and the largest observatory in Mexico is named in his honor.

Last and much like Itzli up there, the one with the least amount of evidence to being an acient alien also one I know and found out the leas about.

Baronne/Baroness De La Croix. One of the Loa, the vodoo/vodoun gods.

She pops up with her father Baron Samedi when Vodoo starts and didn't really have all that much worship until Prohibition. Here's where the Ancient Aliens thing comes in; in every depiction of her she is wearing clothes that are anachronistic for the era by two decades. The Mambos and Houngans that let her posess them usually paint up a big portrait of her and to the date of the painting, the anachronism is there. There's very little on her and I attribute it to her main worshippers; drunk mardi gras goers and morticians. If you ever went out on a bender in New Orleans during Mardi Gras and passed out drunk, odds are you woke up in some basement with a bunch of other people and found you all were wearing merch with her face on it. Morticians in Louisiana all have a bust of her somewhere for some reason and none of them would give a straight answer.

That's all I have and all I will post. Yeah I know it's thin, but hey I had to put this out there otherwise it would feel like I wasted an entire days worth of research.

  
  
**(Showing page 35 of 56)**  
  
**►WhedonRipperFan** (Banned)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
For the last time, this story is bullshit. It's all some coincidence. I had heard enough of this from my burnout roomate!  
  
**►Mane Magenta**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Hey, I mean its at least interesting?  
  
**►Ultracut**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Dude, I was one of those Donner worshipping metalheads, we all joked that Donner drove a Mustang before we heard this shit.  
**►Tumbles**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
This is gonna sound weird, but doesn't Donald Rhodes Jr's late wife kinda look like Kuromizuhime in the paintings?  
  
**►Lo A Quest**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Yeah, now that you mention it.  
  
**►Noveltry**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
I agree with Whedon, this is all coincidental bs  
  
**►XxVoid_CowboyxX**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Come on, don't you guys think it has some merit? I mean first we get that Nasty in Brockton, we got all that crazy shit down outh. Nilbog and Heartbreaker dying?  
  
I'm calling it now, I bet you the gods are all coming back and the monsters and other shit like that are coming too!  
  
**►Ryus**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Shut up cowboy  
  
**►Thatdude**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
STFU Void_Cowboy  
  
**►Nondeceptive**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
How the hell have you not been banned yet?  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 33, 34, 35, 36, 37 ... 54, 55, 56**  
  
  
**(Showing page 36 of 56)**  
  
**►Noveltry**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Of fucking course cowboy shows uyp  
  
**►XxVoid_CowboyxX**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
You know y'all love me!  
  
Hear me out on this. I got a little theory of my own that makes snese  
  
So what if these specific non asshole gods that have guns and modernc ars and bieks are all Parahumans that got hit nwith some time warp bullshit in the future and then sent back to the pat?  
  
I mean it makes sense right?>  
  
**►Whitecollar** (Cape Wife)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
...  
  
Ok that's enough internet for me I'm actually thinking that something [USER=17803]@XxVoid_CowboyxX[/USER] , makes fucking sense  
  
**►Lolitup**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
I mean it makes more sense than aliens  
  
**►WhedonRipperFan** (Banned)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Fuck off cowboy!  
**►HorseMom** (Verified Lawyer) (Verified Asskicker) (Moderator)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Someones been a naughty boy! Take your spanking!  
  
**►Mori_Corvus** (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker) (Corax MC)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
How did the liesmith get mod status?  
  
**►Numbah1Celtaboo** (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Ohshitohshitohshitohshtiohsiotho  
  
@DoktorD why is he here?  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Verified Journalist) (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
why is she here you mean?  
  
**►Mori_Corvus** (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker) (Corax MC)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Liesmiths a freak anyway does it matter whatever the fuck hes called?  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 34, 35, 36, 37, 38 ... 54, 55, 56**  
  
  
**(Showing page 37 of 56)**  
  
**►DoktorD** (Certified, Verified, and Death Defied DJ)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Jesus christ tumbleweeds wake a man up from his nap for this?  
  
they asked me, I owed them, they're a mod. endo story  
  
**►HorseMom** (Verified Lawyer) (Verified Asskicker) (Moderator)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
THAT'S RIGHT BOOTY PIXIES! I'M A MOD SUCK IT!  
  
Don't worry, so long as you don't have a Verified Asskicker or Scion tag I won't abuse my responisbilitye.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
...  
  
much ;)  
  
**►TJ_On_The_Moon** (Verified Journalist) (Verified Scion) (Verified Asskicker)  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
Huh. Well expect more kinky shit on the nsfw boards people. We have the anglo asshat the slapstic saxon himself as a moderator.  
  
**►Feychick**  
Replied On Jan 7th 2011:  
and Void Cowboy didn't get banned for once! It's a k'nishmas miracle!  
  
  
**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 35, 36, 37, 38, 39 ... 54, 55, 56**  
  


■


	18. Bend & Break 2.1

Walt

1/09/11

I had returned from the impromptu “End of Winter Break” get together, that Rhodes had somehow dragged us all too, several hours ago. Despite the late hour, one that I didn’t bother confirming by viewing the alarm clock to my right on the desk, I was wide awake and reading the various entries within _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ regarding the fae in alphabetical order. I had hit the “C” section and was reading up on the greater intricacies of the Cait Sith. Evian had decided to sleep in my room tonight yet again and was lounging on my bed, stretching himself out and trying to get comfortable.

“You know you have a primary source right here, kid.” He said lazily form the bed “No need to crack open Book about it.”

Evian had been referring to _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ as Book or Booker whenever I had begun reading it before letting the night take me. Granted the tome didn’t seem to mind or comment on the damn cat’s nickname at all however I felt no need to refer to it in such an informal manner. Regardless, Evian had been trying to goad me into conversation ever since I had returned home and I felt no need to indulge him. Normally it would be simply because I didn’t want to hear the Bostonian Sidhe ramble like a loon for the umpteenth time but tonight I was simply trying to shake a sense of foreboding that had taken hold of me. Normally such a feeling would be alleviated by reading or by chores but with tomorrow being the first day of school and it being so late there would be no time for work even if there were any, leaving only recreational reading. Sadly flipping through the bountiful pages of _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ did nothing to quash that dreadful feeling growing within my chest.

The book must have either sensed my distress through my rather rapid pace of reading or it had some unknown and arcane means of sight and read my face, as it had become blank save for the phrase

“Are you OK Walt?”

I closed the book and moved to my bed, ignoring the concern coming from that strange enchanted book and making sure to brush Evian to the floor. Evian took my place at the desk, opening the _Encyclopedia_ and reiterating the question. Again, I ignored him and merely turned to face the wall my bed was placed against. Despite my clear and present disinterest in conversation, Evian leapt back on to the bed and crawled over to look me in the eye as he lay next to me.

“Something crazy happen at the party, kiddo?” He waggled whatever passed for eyebrows on his face “You see a gal and give her the old ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy’, eh?”

I glared Evian down

“I take it you’re going to keep talking till I answer the damn question, cat?”

The infuriating feline laughed and nodded yes

“What’s eatin’ you cowboy?” he asked me

I let out a deep sigh and reached over to bring _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ into our conversation, as I opened the book and relished the fresh scent of grass and clover its pages filled with question marks begging for me to answer.

I thought long and hard how to explain my feelings to the cat and book. The party itself was actually quite enjoyable, Lily had been true to her word and brought a plethora of her Earth-Aleph films and television serials over and we watched quite a few. Rhodes had brought the refreshments and came in surprisingly informal and casual attire, surprising us all with old generic store-brand jeans and a blank white tea made of cotton. As I was technically hosting and Taylor hadn’t been confident enough in her flute abilities neither of us really contributed to anything beyond helping set up the projector and playing A/V club. All in all it was the most fun I had in years, it was the first time in a long time that I actually did not find the presence of people my own age grating or annoying in the slightest, and it didn’t involve a harebrained scheme from Winnie spoiling it.

“It wasn’t the party.” I told them. “Just a bad feeling.”

This strange dread that had taken hold of me began when we had all left the party, Lily was picked up by her parents, Rhodes rode home on his fixie, Taylor and I rode home with Finn and Saoirse. I’m not sure if anyone else saw it, but I was reasonably sure I saw that one stalker of Rhodes skulking about as we left. It was out of the corner of my eye and I only saw a silhouette resembling that rather unpleasant girl, but the feelings of dread had began then. There were four schools that enrolled adolescents within the Brockton Bay metropolitan area, each of those schools was more or less full or overflowing, so if I were correct in my ballpark estimate of about three thousand students per school then the odds of that girl being in Winslow were about one in four, the odds of us being in the same class together or even in the same grade were much larger numbers that, admittedly, I don’t think I could calculate even if I had the patience for them. The girl in question feels extremely _off_ for lack of a better description, like something was not natural about her. I had consulted _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ earlier, but none of its results matched any description I gave. In fact I’m reasonably sure that if I explained what I was looking for and why in detail to the book it would just tell me that I’m describing a teenage girl obsessed with a boy.

Evian broke my introspection and train of thought with a “Wanna talk about it big guy?”

I glared at him again and told him “Drop it, cat. It’s probably nothing.”

“Alright.” he conceded “I’m stuck with you kiddo, weather you like it or not and if you need someone to talk to then who better than a talking cat that don’t get out much?”

As much as it pained me to admit, the cat had a point. I’d never tell him though. I gave _The Encyclopedia Fabula_ a pat that I hoped came off as comforting. Hard to tell when I have little experience with consoling anybody and the person I’m comforting is a book with no facial cues. After setting it down on the desk and brushing Evian aside and dozed off.

No dream of what was to come

No nightmare to torment me

Just dark and silence.

A perfect night of sleep to be honest. I woke to the sound of my alarm at exactly five AM, brushed Evian off my chest and on to the floor, and continued the routine I had settled in to the past month. Strangely, last night’s sense of dread did not return with my awakening and that only raised more questions,

First was to get my clothes for the day ready, in this case jeans, a white t-shirt, a plane button up shirt over it, winter socks, despite them deliberately marking me as out of place I chose to go with my favorite boots sans the spurs, and then a denim jacket with wool liner. I wasn’t risking my only hat going to such a foul school and with how I’d have to remove it in class and leave it in my locker I didn’t see the point in bringing it. If I recalled correctly, the school would provide a shirt for gym and I’d be required to wear athletic shoes and something other than jeans, a tracksuit and my new sneakers would do.

Next was personal grooming; morning shower, brushing my teeth, a clean shave. Nothing special, nothing luxurious. Grandfather had taught me how to shave in the contemporary way and his preferred way of doing it with a straight razor, sadly I did not bring my shaving kit and had to settle for a disposable set until I could find a suitable replacement, no shaving cream, no after shave. I could handle a razor unlike most folk my age and was skilled enough to avoid cutting myself or leaving stubble in any way.

Lastly, and my personal favorite step, breakfast. I had begun rising at the same hour as my grandparents and completing my morning routine swifter than either of them as to be able to make breakfast for the family. Nothing fancy just the standard American staple breakfast; bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast, small bowls of cereal, orange juice for Saoirse, coffee for myself and Finn.

By the time Finn and Saoirse had completed their own morning rituals breakfast was hot and ready on the table, today it was all set and done at six-o-five. It was still strange to me seeing my grandparents in their true youthful appearance, especially with their rather dated sense of fashion. I had no room to speak on such a matter, dressing the way I do, but I still found it odd. Seeing them come down the stairs ready for the day dressed like they had walked out of the television mid running of one of Grandfather’s programs. Surreal did not begin to describe it.   
  
Normally this would be the moment when Evian would come down and join us, but he did mention he wanted to sleep in today. A welcome reprieve from his morning zoo routine.

Finn and Saoirse seemed to appreciate my cooking and stopped fretting and trying to get me to not rise early and do morning chores. Morning pleasantries were exchanged, they complemented my cooking, we finished eating around six fourty-five and I loaded the dishes into the washer. Normally I would clean them by hand but Saoirse said that if I neglected to use the dish washer that she had painstakingly researched and purchased after haggling it down to half off that I would know what it was to feel the fury of being dragged around the bay by an irate seal. Finn of course told me that I had better do what she said as she was not joking. Let it be known that beneath the sweetness and kindness of my grandmother that she was in fact quite frightening and fierce when she felt the need to be.

Rather than taking the school bus, my grandparents insisted that I be taken by car and that they would not lose business by opening up an hour later to drop off their grandson and neighbor. Mr. Hebert had been mighty appreciative when Finn and Saoirse offered to take Taylor to school along with me. He was doing better, stayed true to his forsaking of alcohol, had apparently been working far better than before and even managed to be home on time for once. He had mentioned that the longshoremen of Brockton Bay had recently gotten a large contract of work from some company by the name of Colossus HoldingsIncorporated. They were moving their headquarters from New York to Brockton and would be purchasing the vast majority of the boat graveyard, the salvage rights to all the derelicts, and were working on a deal with the city regarding removing the tanker blocking the entrance to the bay. Mr. Hebert was rather excited and said that he’d be meeting with the company’s vice president to finalize the deal. Granted, he also was very clearly nervous.

With all the morning routine and reminiscing aside, seven AM had arrived and thus began our journey to the supposed wretched hive of Winslow High School. Of course once Saoirse was reminded of where both Taylor and myself were going to school she would not stop being a mother-hen, even as we walked next door to pick Taylor up.

“I still do not understand why we couldn’t have sent Walter to Immaculata.” Saoirse had said as we waited on the Hebert’s front porch.

“Saoirse you said that it was too expensive and that being taught by those crotchety old nuns and priests would have done more harm than being in a rough school like Winslow.” Finn retorted with a chuckle

Comments like that were the norm of the conversation and I felt no need to interject or add anything. Taylor and Mr. Hebert had met us at the door within five minutes of our knocking, Taylor was wearing one of her dark outfits and Mr. Hebert was dressed in an old suit with his tie a tad bit too tight.

“Morning McCullough family!” Forced enthusiasm bled through a rather plastic nervous smile “Beautiful morning isn’t it?”

Finn and Saoirse gave a quick and polite “Good morning” in response and continued their circular dialogue on the subject of one Winslow High.

“They appear to share your nerves sir.” I said politely before addressing Taylor with a wave

“What?” Mr. Hebert’s voice went up about an octave as he said that “Nerves? No, no nerves…”

Taylor gave her father a pat on the back

“Dad, you’re gonna be fine. They said it was just a formality right?” she loosened his tie a bit and smoothed out the wrinkles on his shoulders “Just relax. You did great!”

Mr. Hebert did not in fact relax in the slightest. If anything he tensed up even more. Regardless he gave Taylor a hug, me a pat on the shoulder, and a handshake of gratitude to Finn and Saoirse as he walked over to his truck and began his journey to what would no doubt be a very stressful meeting for him.

Godspeed Mr. Hebert.

With that we went to our own car and began driving over to the infamous school and as we got closer and closer to the school, Saoirse grew more nervous

“Finn, please that school is dreadful and filled with street toughs!” Saoirse was practically pleading for Finn to concede and let her pull me from school at this point.

“Saoirse. Walter is not some kid from Mayberry and I think he could handle a few idiot thugs.”  
  


I warmly chuckled at how correct he was in his assumptions, Taylor’s brows furrowed in confusion

“Mayberry?” She asked

“Where Andy Griffith took place.” I replied with a grin

“What’s Andy Griffith?”

“Old show.”

Taylor shook her head at my laconic answers and fished for a topic other than Saoirse fretting or Finn trying to reassure her.

“So.” she began with a somewhat reserved smile “That party was nice.”

I leaned back into the seat and tried to get comfortable, letting out a grunt of agreement

“I still can’t believe that Donnie actually committed to that bit he pulled.”

We were three episodes into one of Lily’s rider shows, this one was about aliens that could mimic humans and become extremely fast and the mysterious organization that fought them with an advanced insect themed technology. Lily had copied the wrong versions of the videos to the disc she had brought and they didn’t have the English subtitles. Rather than switching to a new series or a movie, Rhodes had proceeded to do his own “dub” of it as we watched along.

“It was indeed surprising. If he ever became an actor I imagine he’d do rather well for himself.” I replied “I’m more surprised that Lily played along and joined in.”

“What was that one line that she said?” Taylor struck a pose similar to the one of the protagonist from the show “I think it went like ‘There are two things a man must never do; one is to not make girls cry, the other is to mishandle food! Clock-Up!’ waa-cha!”

Taylor’s enthusiasm was rather refreshing, and seeing her smile so widely sparked my own smile, even if it was nowhere near as warm as hers.

“Any parahumans like those Masked Riders?” I asked as she shadow boxed

“I think Velocity can maybe hit the same speed as clocking up.” There was a fire in her eyes when she said it, it seemed the gears in her head were turning. “But I don’t think he can act the same way.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean it’d be pretty awesome if he could.” Her smile weakened and her eyes grew concerned “Just hit super speed and clean up the bay in half an hour. Dunno how you’d be able to stop that though, kinda refreshing that he can’t.”

“Why’s that?” Curiosity getting the better of me.

“Well, if he ever went villain not much would be able to stop him.” Taylor’s eyes widened in shock and she began stammering out a self correction “I mean, he wouldn’t because he’s a hero, obviously. Just, if he ever got Mastered or something with the Simurgh happened that they didn’t catch or…”

“General ‘Who Watches the Watchmen’ things?”

“Yeah…”

Reminded me of a story that Evian told me, one that didn’t have me telling him to shut up for once.

“You know the ancient god-kings of Ireland, the Tuatha Dé Danaan, had a solution to this?”

“Oh?”

“Yes, they had declared that to provide a counter to anyone with power in their lands by placing them under a geas. It was gift, curse, oath or vow, and a taboo all in one. A rule that they either must follow or were compelled to follow or all of their power would leave them and they would be forever dishonored. For instance the warrior Cú Chulainn had two; he couldn’t refuse a meal offered to him and he was to never eat the meat of a dog. Guess how his enemies weakened him?”

Taylor chuckled and gave me a pointed look

“They tricked him into eating dog meat.” She shook her head and smirked “The solution to if a Hero turns bad is magic. Great solution Walt, I’ll be sure to get Gandalf on the phone to help in the event of rogue Heroes.”

I held up my hands and let out my own amused chuckle “Hey, whatever works right?”

“Heads up, we’re here kids.” Finn broke up Taylor and I’s conversation and pointed out the school to us as he pulled up to the drop off curb.

I looked out the window to see my new school, as far as first impressions go this school made a poor one. Three floors of a poor man’s imitation of brutalism, evoking feelings of pathetic surrender rather than oppressive monument surrounded by accelerated urban decay. First bell rings at eight in the morning, we got here at seven twenty-five and aside from what I would assume to be the vehicles of faculty and staff the whole place was empty. It was very clear that nobody wanted to be here longer than they had to.

As Taylor and I got out of the car Saoirse got out to give us both a hug and Finn handed me a notecard.

“Principle’s instructions for you when you arrive.” he told me “Also hold still a moment you two, Saoirse has something she wants to get a picture of you two.”

Oh god no.

Before either Taylor and I could get word in the contrary, Saoirse had pulled out an old Polaroid camera and had us pose for the shot. Taylor was a good sport about it and fake waved to the camera, I made my displeasure clear with a grimace. Saoirse gave me one last hug before giving me some parting words

“Be careful, Walter.” She said

“Always am.” I replied honestly

“Don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll try to avoid it.” Again with utter honesty.

“Don’t hurt anybody too badly if they get rough.”

“Well…” I started, not able to bring myself to lie. “…if you insist.”

And with that Finn and Saoirse said goodbye to us and drove off to work.

I read the notecard’s instructions aloud

  * Head to the main office

  * Speak with the secretary

  * Take your locker number and lock as well as your class itinerary

  * Itinerary is final and cannot be changed.




I turned over to Taylor and asked “No where the main office is?”

Taylor let out a rather un-enthused sigh “Unfortunately. Follow me.”

The inside of the school did not change the impression gathered from the exterior. The floor was in a state of neglect with missing tiles, stains from god knows what, ancient lockers in various states of disrepair or vandalism, fluorescent bulbs flickering and on the cusp of going out. I’m reasonably sure I saw one of the teachers drinking from a hip flask as we passed by. When we reached the door to the administration office we had to be buzzed in from a heavy security door that was on its last legs and clearly didn’t actually lock properly. The secretary was a rather miserable and angry looking woman in her fourties, clothes long out of style, hair barely in a professional bun, and a mountain of disheveled paperwork strewn about the corner of her desk while her phone phone kept ringing.

“Whatever it is can wait till after school Ms. Hebert.” The secretary snapped between bites of a danish and with a harsh glare to Taylor “More accusations? It’s not even first period.”

“Actually _ma’am_.” I said making sure to match the secretary’s venom. “Taylor was helping me find my way here, a new student.”

The secretary looked me up and down and gave me some more side eye, I glared in return.

  
“One moment please.” she said, picking up and then immediately hanging up the office phone. “Not even when the rest of you fucking animals show up and I already have phone calls…”

The secretary typed away at her outdated keyboard, printed out something, and pulled out a combination padlock from an old file drawer.

“Your locker number is zero-zero-three, this is your lock, if it is lost or stolen you will be asked to pay for the replacement.” The receptionist droned on “Here is your class schedule, first period is at eight AM sharp. You will get your school books as you go to class and meet your teachers.”

The receptionist resumed whatever she was doing, although I doubt it was actually work. I looked over to Taylor, she was getting rather grim and irate.

“Any idea where locker #003 is?” I asked

“Yeah, it’s actually not that-”

Taylor was cut off with a rather obnoxious and loud clearing of the throat from the secretary. I looked over to her and found her attempting to glare daggers towards us.

“If you don’t mind, there are adults in the middle of some rather important work and they shouldn’t be disturbed.”

I scoffed “Really? Then you’d better leave quickly, you’re rather disturbing with that poor makeup job.”

  
It wasn’t the strongest come back, nor was it classy by any means but I didn’t regret saying it. The secretary became rather incensed and she responded with ill concealed hatred.

“Alright, fuck off kid. Before I have you dragged out of here.”

With that we left the office to continue our conversation.

“I take it the principle is no better?” I asked Taylor while looking over my schedule.

“Nope, it’s bitches all the way down in that office.” she sighed out in frustration. “Where was I?”

“You were telling me about where my locker was.”

“Right.” She walked ahead and waved me over to follow her “It’s actually not that far.”

Eyeing the clock as we walked, I only caught site of one that worked and it said seven fourty-five. Locker #003 was in the middle of the crossroads of the first floor hugging the left hand wall. It was also one of the few lockers with no visible signs of vandalism to my surprise. A few students were making there way in, none of them were in any way remarkable and all seemed to blend in together.

“Where’s your locker if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Around the corner there. #108.” Taylor pointed down the hall towards the rear of the school “Who do you have for first period?”

I tried to open the locker, finding the latch mechanism was sticking and not quite opening. I’d have to bring some WD-40 if this problem persists.

“Gladly. What the hell kind of name is Gladly?” I stated with a roll of my eyes “Know what he’s like by chance?”

As I spent about three minutes trying to get my locker open, Taylor painted a picture of a young and new teacher that was trying to relive the glory days he had in high school and college by being the “cool” teacher and was utterly devoid of any talent as an eduator. Or at the very least that was the conclusion I came too.

“Great.” I said with a swift yank of the door finally breaking whatever seal was inside the latch and breaking off what appeared to be dried adhesive in the locker’s doorframe.

When the door swung open, the stench of dust and rot came free, the vents of the locker were sealed shut with duct tape and cling wrap over a few sheets of paper in layers. I tore the seal off the vents and looked to the floor of the locker finding a dessicated and long dead rat. A few of the students that were passing by chuckled and the few that I could see out of my peripherals were pointing and whispering to their friends. I grabbed the dead rat in the remnants of the seal and looked over to Taylor.

“Well, Winslow seems to know how to make new students feel welcome.”

“Only gets worse from here, cowboy.” she said with a pained smile “I’m gonna head over to my locker. Catch you passing period?”

I nodded my head towards the trash in hand “Yeah, I’m gonna dump this in the trash and wash my hands. Catch you later.”

Taylor waved goodbye and made way to her locker, I locked the impromptu rat morgue that was my own and made my way to a men’s room that I had passed. Along my way I spotted Rhodes’ stalker passing by with some red haired girl. Both of which looked rather smug but the stalker girl was directing the smug smile to me specifically, I merely looked on ahead and brushed her off. I found myself to that men’s room and discarded the seal and corpse within the lone trash bin. Although the bathroom was covered in graffiti and the windows were scratched all to hell, I could at least say the soap dispensers at least had soap and the water actually warmed at a decent speed. They may be thugs and scoundrels but they at least new basic cleanliness.

As I washed my hands the stall immediately to my rear opened up, although the occupant made no noise indicating he was moving. I looked up from my lather to look into the scratched mirror, finding a rather irate boy of the Asian persuasion, looked familiar too. I looked back down and rinsed off my soapy hands, the boy left in a hurry, and then I got to drying my hands. Despite not quite feeling the need to, I figured that I should relieve myself while I was here.

In other words I pissed and then rewashed my hands. I had the time and coffee makes you piss.

By the time I had finished drying my hands a second time, the door to the bathroom opened and the sounds of many footsteps filled the cramped space. I looked over to see the irate boy from earlier with a group of other Asian boys in red and green.

I tossed the paper towels I used into the trash bin and faced the group.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” I said casually

A few of the gangers stood aside and in walked a familiar face, granted this face was heavily swollen and covered in bandages. The Fat One from the other night, one of the three that had tried to assault that Madison girl the hand I had slammed the dumpster lid on was in a cast and he was cradling his massive gut.

“This him Big Lo?” the boy from earlier asked

So lard ass had a cute little nickname. Good for him. The fat bastard nodded and then the boy stepped forward.

“You sent Big Lo, Shin, and my brother Cheng to the ER two nights ago, guai lo!”

I looked him dead into his burning eyes

“Yes, and?”

The boy’s anger grew and he had his right hand in his coat pocket, grasping something tightly.

“Shin’s not here because he needed fuckin’ skin grafts.” He spat with rage “My brother, he may never leave the hospital. You put him in a fuckin’ coma!”

“ _And_?” My eyes never left his

The boy pulled out a knife in a lacquered scabbard decorated with flowering branches. Old and eastern in design, either Korean or Japanese. The boy pulled out the blade and dropped the scabbard, the sound of the wood echoing in the bathroom. A few of his “friends” tensed up in fear, a few even looked surprised. Lard Ass, Big Lo gulped.

“ _You best make your next three steps count boy._ ” was my reply, a cold rage bringing the words unbidden from my mind. “ _Otherwise you may just join your idiot brother_.”

The boy took exception to my words and charged in with that knife of his like a reckless idiot, even someone with only a few lessons in Grandfather’s own personal “Art of Asskicking” and it all was the kind of things he would use when he was County Sherrif including dealing with people with knives who didn't know how to use em. He lunged forward with the knife, overextending and leaving enough room for me to sidestep even in a cramped a space as this. I shoved the off balance idiot into the wall and went to kick him.

One of those ABB boys kicked my knee from behind, knocking me off balance and on to the floor. Before I could recover, the boy with the knife scrambled on top of me and started bashing my face in. I blocked a few of his hammer blows, boy had anger but had no power behind his strikes and I could barely feel them.

I spotted an opening from his flailing and took it, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing as tight as I could. The attempted beating stopped and a few of his friends gasped in shock, as I squeezed what precious little oxygen from his throat out my other hand was freed and I started doubling with my grip.

One of this _wretch’s_ friends came up and kicked me in the nuts, the sharp pain coming so swiftly that I let go of that neck. The boy recovered faster than he had any right to and plunged that old knife into my chest. I felt the warm redness flee from the wound as the blade left me, and before I could make my counter the boy plunged the knife into me again and again.

With every stab I felt my life’s breath cut short, the precious water of life within me staining both the steel of the blade and the worn tiles beneath me. As the boy screamed and wailed, his friends tried to pry him off of me but the boy stabbed with further ferocity, his eyes were locked with mine. As he saw my vision fade, the fires of hate only grew hotter within the boy. My strength left me, not even enough to keep my eyes open. I heard a panicked cacophony of voices and soon felt myself dragged into and propped up in one of the stalls. Soon the cacophany ended and was met only with silence and I felt myself once again fading.

This was no dream, and I would not wake with my wounds gone. I was dying. Soon I heard a familiar a Boston accented and frantic voice tell me

“Hang in there kid! Help’s here!”

Then I felt nothing. No pain, no coldness, nothing.

I opened my eyes, my strength seemingly returned to me.

A familiar sight greeted me; an old and grand hall with a large bowl of blue fire in the center of the room. What seemed like countless battle standards, banners, and shields of many culturesand armies bedecking the walls and rafters. Several long oaken tables with faded silhouettes of soldiers and warriors from as many different cultures as the ornaments upon the wall sitting at them and all looking at me. Towards the rear of the hall on a raised platform were two thrones. Upon one of the thrones was a man wearing an old duster, his boots black as night, a bare skull mask that devoured any and all light trying to enter its sockets, and on his brow a crown of shattered bones bound by thorns. On the opposite throne was a woman in a long and flowing dark green dress more appropriate of spring or summer, her face obscured by a veil of mourning or wedding, her hair long, wavyt, and a vibrant red.

They rose from their thrones, the silhouettes of the crowd bowed their heads, and soon the couple came down the platforms steps arm in arm towards me and I dared not move. As they walked, the woman bare feet sprouted lush spring flowers and grass with her every step and the man’s footsteps frosted them over as they walked.

As they approached, the man took his free hand and began removing his mask, the woman using her free hand to lift her veil. The man’s face was almost exactly like my own, barring the shape of his nose and the color of his eyes. The woman’s eyes were the same shade of blue as my own, and her eyes danced with joy and mischief

The man was Eric Connolly, the woman was Doreen McCullough, my parents.

As they walked closer, I saw their faces split open into warm and caring smiles.

I dared not move, thinking that any movement would reveal this all to be an illusion.

“Mother? Father?” I asked, no other words coming forth

Their smiles grew wider and then they embraced me, which I returned with equal warmth and affection. I imagine if I could cry, tears would be flowing freely.

I pulled out of the embrace and asked them “Are you here to take me?”

My father laughed heartily and patted my back.

“Don’t worry son.” He said with a dark voice filled with purpose and authority “We ain’t taking you to the hereafter just yet, not your time.”

“Then…” I said, my words not quite able to flow as well as usual “…where are we?”

“You’re in one of your father’s Sanctums. Or at the very least, your soul has been stopped here.” My mother said with voice smooth as silk and spiced with mischief. “Your body is still in Winslow, you’d be bleeding to death had Evian neglected his duties.”

“The cat? He followed me to school?” I asked

Mother embraced me again and said “I ordered him to, my son.”

Father placed a hand on my shoulder and said “While Evian’s working some magic on his end, your mother is working some off your soul on our end.”

Mother licked her fingers and smoothed out my admittedly tussled hair as she said “We brought your soul here to grant you your Birthright, or at the very least some of it.”

“What are you saying?” I asked “How is any of this possible?”

Father and Mother exchanged a look, Father speaking first.

“We’re gods son and you are our Scion, a demigod in the making.”

No words left my mouth, no matter how many times it opened. Confusion furrowed my brows, a torrent of questions crowding my thoughts.

“I am Erikaer Helson, God of Death, Patron of the American West, gunslingers, and cowboys.” My father stood straighter and gazed deep within me and continued “I am son of the Goddess Hel and I have been known to mortal men as both Pecos Bill and also as the depiction of the Grim Reaper known as The Pale Rider.”

I looked over to my mother

“I am Dawn, Goddess of Dreams, Patron of North American Witches.” Her smile grew wider and her eyes shone, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles of my ruined jacket “I am the daughter of the goddess Fand, stepdaughter of Manannán mac Lir. I am also known as Titania, High Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“I have so many questions…” I said, my voice still filled with shock and almost disbelief.

“Sadly we don’t have much time, son.” Father said “Right now all we can do is awaken the Ichor in your blood.”

Mother stopped adjusting my clothes and gestured for me to look at her

“We will return to you in the future, along with the rest of your Birthright.” she said, once again embracing me “Right now you must return, you swore an oath to someone and they are in dire peril.”

Behind me, in the distance I heard a quiet voice begging for help, along with the voice of Evian

“Come on kid wake up!” I could hear faintly

Soon the heavy doors of the hall swung open and a breeze began pulling at me trying to pry me away from my parents.

“Go forth, my son.” I could hear my mother’s voice clear over the rapidly howling winds “We will meet again.”

Soon the howling wind violently threw me from my feet and I felt myself fall back to earth with a violent jerk.

When I opened my eyes, Evian was on my chest his feline mouth puckered up in a kiss. Despite the aching sensation all over me I shoved him to the tile floor and stumbled my way out of the stall ignoring the cat’s cries of surprise and relief.

Checking myself in the mirror, the front of my jacket was caked with drying blood and my once pristine white shirt was now stained red, my pants and boots were somehow spared. I lifted up my ruined shirt and saw that boy’s handiwork. While the stab wounds were no longer bleeding, they had not fully healed although somehow I could tell that they were closing much faster than what was normal. Even for someone who normally healed fast like me.

Then, my senses were bombarded by cruel cacophony. I could hear the plumbing shift and flow, chalk on chalkboards, markers on whiteboard, pens and pencil scraping at paper, everyone speaking at once their saliva slithering about and their teeth colliding with each other as they chewed and spoke. Most distressing of all was a girl calling for help in a cramped and tight space, her voice muffled by a foul viscera and countless crawling and buzzing insects.

The cacophony was greater and more painful then even the many stabs to the chest, or even being shot through the heart. I tried to block out the sound with my hands, but to no avail. I punched the mirror in front of me, I stumbled against the wall. I slammed my head into the tiled wall, feeling it crack and feeling no pain as I did so.

“Calm down kid!” I could hear Evian say, his voice clear over the cacophony. “Focus on my voice. Just focus on what I’m saying.”

Evian’s voice guided me, the focus helping drown out the cacophony. Soon my sense were back to normal although I could still hear that girl in the viscera. I stopped focusing on Evian and began focusing on the girl. I don’t know how, but I felt as if I knew exactly where I could find her.

Ignoring Evian once more, I staggered to my feet and rushed out of the bathroom stall. As I opened the door, the sun was directly shining in to the windows of the school and the clock on the wall in front of me, was ticking away with its hands showing 2:30 PM.

“Almost seven hours…” I said aloud

“Yeah kid, I’ve been trying to keep you alive while you were off with your ma and pa. I panicked and put a glamour over the bathrrom!”

The girl’s voice was fading, I could hear her breathing grow more shallow and ragged, her voice sobbing.

“Walt…”

No.

Not her….

I stumbled forward, trying to run as fast as I could to the rear of the school, the girl’s voice becoming somewhat louder. When I reached that corner of the rear of the school, I counted the lockers.

#108, Taylor’s locker was rumbling and at the base of the locker was a puddle of rotten liquids. I could see from where I stood that the lock was engaged and I would not have the strength to yank it open.   
  
“Please…” I heard her plead “…somebody, anybody, help me!”

I sprinted away, my eyes scanning the walls for any sign of a maintenance closet. A few of the students and staff that were in the hall looked upon my frantic search with distress and fear, I paid them no mind and continued, eventually finding my quarry.

A janitor’s closet with an old wooden door and doorframe, I could see the parts of the door that were beginning to rot. Somehow.

I gave the door’s weak spots a test push then walked back to get a running start for my kick.

“Young man!” I heard a teacher frantically shout “Young man I need you to stop what you’re doing-”

I ignored him and charged forward and booted down the door clean off it’s hinges.

I tossed the ruined door aside, and spotted a pair of bolt cutters, fresh out of the packaging.

The teacher that tried to get my attention, a young one shorter than me. Like a kid trying on one of his father’s suits. Once again I ignored him and took the bolt cutters. The teacher put a hand on my shoulder and tried to tell me to stop.

_I did not have time for this nonsense_

I swung the bolt cutters flat across the right side of his face and into the wall, the crowd that was gathering gasped in shock.

I rushed back to Locker #108, as I rounded the corner Rhodes’ stalker was leaning against my own locker. Her eyes filled with dark and grim satisfaction and her mouth turned upwards in a smug and sadistic grin.

I ignored her and pressed on, quickly taking the bolt cutters and breaking open the padlock. I tossed the bolt cutters aside and began working open the door and soon….

Taylor Hebert, covered in gore and insects came out, hanging on by a thread.

I held her close and cradled her to my chest, looking over to the now gathered crowd their phones in their hands recording.

My gaze grew fierce and I spat out the last words I would say today.

“ _Call a fucking ambulance!_ "


	19. Bend & Break 2.2

Taylor

Sophia thought she’d put the final nail in my coffin with one last taunt

“That fucking hick boy you came in with? He won’t be coming to save you, guess he pissed off the ABB enough to have them gang up on his ass in the bathroom. He’ll be leaving here just like you will; in a fucking **body bag**!”

Walt was in trouble and the only person who knew and cared in this hellhole would be me.

That thought alone brought me back into consciousness.

The steel walls closing in, the rot, the damn bugs?

Cleared from my thoughts almost entirely.

I never thought I would say this, but somehow a wind instrument technique taught to me by a rich and flamboyant dunce is actually helping me keep myself from having a panic attack. I lost consciousness for only a moment, but some of the tricks Donnie taught me for circular breathing helped calm me down. Even with the stench of rot filling my nose with every breath and the buzzing and chittering of the bugs crawling around me and the filth, I was focused!

That awkward, socially fucking inept, dorky cowboy was in trouble and nobody was going to save him. Nobody was coming to save me either, I had to do something to get out and then get help, he’d do it for me!

I used what little space and leverage I had in this coffin. Rocking back and forth, putting every ounce of effort and strength I had into slamming the door open. I could _feel_ the door starting to give but slamming it wouldn’t do it good any more. Ignoring the sensation of the filth and bugs creeping further into me from behind, I went as far back as I could to get my back against the wall and put my legs up against the door. Out of all things, Lily’s color commentary from that party gave me the idea with her story about how grasshopper legs worked and why their kicks would be the ultimate weapon.

Well I had some long legs, may as well use em!

The creaking metal motivated me of the locker door’s own cries of pain were pushing me forward, egging me on to give it all I had and more.

With one last squeal of warping metal, the door came free of its hinges and I slid out to freedom feeling cool and clear liquid . Clean air filled my lungs and purged the stench from my nostrils. I opened my eyes and  rinsed the filth from my glasses as I staggered to my feet. 

The halls of Winslow High School were not there when my eyes adjusted, instead I found myself in a  shallow pool of water with nothing but a sinister screaming and swirling crimson vortex descend ing around me. I could hear Sophia, Emma, Madison and the rest of their posse’s taunts, the cry of pain and shattering glass that filled the nightmares of my mother’s death, my father’s weeping at her funeral all on within the howls and wails of that terrible thing. I could do nothing but stare at it, seeing the twisting and distorted faces of those voices warp across it’s body, and watch as it came closer and closer.

With a deep breath I rose up and ran straight through it.

With every step the vortex to re at me, first at the remaining filth, then at my clothes, then my flesh, and then even my bones. 

I ran and ran, enduring every cut and tear from the vortex until it parted and I found myself at a ledge overlooking an endless starry void. 

From the void came two figures; writhing flesh things that looked like nothing I had ever seen and bore only a passing resemblance to a pair of worms. Even though I knew they were at the very edge of the void I could tell that they were massive, larger than what should be possible for any living and organic creature. I saw them twist and collide in some horrible mockery of a dance, sparks and shards coming loose from their horrid flesh. From edges of the void came two more figures; one was another worm-thing, the second a small and almost imperceptible flash of iridescent light. 

The third worm twisted and coiled, colliding through one of the dancing pair and sending it falling through the void. The iridescent flash blinked in and out of view, leaving craters and crags across the remaining of the paired worms while the interloping third twisted away. Both worm-thing and flashing light fought with even greater vigor and ferocity

The void rushed towards me showing the battle closer and in greater detail; the worm-thing was larger than I could possibly have imagined, mountains of flesh and viscera seemingly going on for eternity, and the iridescent flash’s source danced away from the tendrils and warps the worm sent its way. The light was coming from a mane of rainbow feathers flowing freely from a golden headdress, acting as a crown of a man with green skin. This green man held a physique found only within the carved marble of some renaissance statue and was naked save for a loincloth, bracers, and greaves made from gold.

The worm-thing flailed and whipped hoping to strike the green man who merely danced and weaved his way past the creatures fierce-some flurry. The man struck with swiping elbows, hammered fists, sweeping kicks, and flying knees all tearing through the worm creature who only twisted and wiggled as its wounds slowly closed into maws of teeth or hardening into an impervious shell. The man was undeterred, merely rolling his shoulders or taking pensive poses as he dodged his prey’s counters. 

Soon, the green man stood still and his flesh began to ripple and warp, his golden garb and rainbow headdress shattering away as his flesh bubbled and grew. His head stretched and twisted, becoming that of a hound with teeth like knives and long ebon horns piercing from his brow, massive leathery wings like that of a fruit bat tore free from his back and spine,  his left arm bursting open into a teeming nest of massive vipers with eyes of blazing crimson haze, his right growing into a gruesome three fingered claw, his legs becoming horrible mockeries of a large feline, and finally growing a long tail constantly sprouting twisting and curving blades made of bone.

From there the fight was no longer a warrior pummeling a mountain, but a snarling beast ripping and tearing at prey.

[DESTINATION]

Where the serpents struck, the worm’s flesh melted away now diseased and necrotic.

[AGREEMENT]

Where its horns pierced, the worm’s blood flowed freel y

[TRAJECTORY]

Within all of this carnage a strange piece of the worm broke free and span away from the two combatants… 

[AGREEMENT]

…and began flying right towards me!

I scrambled back to my feet, not knowing that I fell to my knees watching whatever those things were, and braced myself to run through the vortex again. To my surprise, the vortex was gone and only an endless flat and cracked stone field remained. I ignored the pain and agony the adrenaline or shock had masked, hoping to escape whatever that shard-thing had in store, getting three good strides in before tripping and falling.

Rather than the pain of hitting the ground, my face hit something gold, sticky and warm. The dried cracked earth broke away, revealing more of the gold and sticky substance and dragging me further under, eventually bringing even my head within the now shining gold.  I flailed and thrashed, hoping to reach the surface while I held what precious little breath within me . A panicked reflex had me breathe in this substance, only to find oxygen filling my lungs and my tongue tasting the sweetest and stickiest honey.  My wounds felt full and warm, the pain melting away as I sank deeper into the honey. I felt something dive in this golden ocean and prick at my head, then nothing but warmth and comfort. 

In the distance I swear I could hear Mom humming a lullaby and further then that, Walt shouting for an ambulance. 

My eyes felt heavier, and heavier, my breathing steadied, and then I drifted off to sleep.


	20. Special Chapter #1 -  The Sanguine Fool

The Sanguine Fool

11/13/10

Amy walked out of the crappy chain coffee house, dissatisfied and roughly $2.50 poorer.

“Whoever said that ‘Dunkies’ was in any way the end all be all of coffee needed to have their tastebud privileges revoked.” She thought to herself as she trudged down the alley shortcut back to Brockton Bay General.

She had been forced to take an hour long break by damn near anyone with any authority in the hospital, telling her that she was working too damn hard and that even if she wasn’t technically an employee she should still have taken several breaks and rests by now. Hell, an anesthesiologist even said if she didn’t take a break she’d be sedated, powers or no.

Despite the sentiment and concern behind such an action, Amy couldn’t help but resent the staff for it. Especially because they told her that she needed to take her break away from the hospital. She assumed it was so that they made sure she couldn’t just sneak off and heal people anyway.

Granted she had done so in the past so to them it would have been a better idea for them to force her on a break off site.

Amy muttered curses and grumbled about meddlers and busybodies as she brooded down the alley, paying no mind to the dumpster with shaking trash and a strange moaning coming from its open lid and even less mind to the bum slouching down a few feet ahead of it.

That is, until she reached him and he asked in a strange and gravelly voice

“Gotta light?”

Rather than ignoring him as she usually would, Amy stopped and let out a sigh of frustration.

“Sure.” she breathed out, her hands rummaging through the pockets of her costume trying to find the disposable lighter she bought a few nights ago. Not noticing the risen bum with a brandished knife.

In a flash of movement the bum pinned her to the wall by her neck, his free arm across it choking her while his knife hand held the blade up to her cheek.

Amy reached wildly for any exposed flesh or anything biological, hoping for a vector for her powers to help deal with and only finding surprisingly clean clothing covering him head to toe. By reflex, she threw her knee into the attacker’s groin and despite finding her target, the man showed no reaction beyond a wet and foul giggle. She looked into the eyes of the assailant, finding manic tiny beady eyes that seemed to lead into a never ending abyss. The knife in his hand was being traced around the underside of her jawline as this assailant wheezed out a sinister chortle.

The assailant reeled back his knife hand, preparing for a thrust into her abdomen but was torn away suddenly and violently. The bum had been thrown into the wall across, a man in jeans, sneakers, and a letterman jacket her apparent savior.

The man stood tall and lean maybe six-foot-two, his breath ragged and showing no fog of condensation with his exhales, and his eyes red as blood and with a strange shine of animalistic hunger within. As the knife wielding bum began to rise, the red eyed man sped down and took a bite into the downed man’s neck. Rather than a howl of pain, the beady eyed bum cried out in ecstasy as his eyes glazed over in rapture. Amy could only watch, her body paralyzed in shock as she slid down the wall and on to the cold pavement.

Soon as it began, the tall man seemed to come to his senses and quickly scrambled back along the ground backwards and ending up sitting right next to the still shocked Amy, all the while gagging, hacking, and screaming like a frightened woman. Turning his head and seeing the shocked expression on Amy’s face, showing her his now brown eyes filled with shock and disgust. After a beat, the man once again shrieked and shot up to his feet prancing about as if he were an old housewife trying to avoid a rodent that had gotten in to her kitchen.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joesph!” He shouted before retching up enough blood to have killed someone and then pointing at the still dazed out bum “You tasted like liquid ass!”

Finally finding her voice Amy called out to the man, who was still shaking in disgust and frantically checking himself and muttering about “Those asshats who drink junkies are full of shit.”

Soon the man stood still, let out a quick breath and then spat out a drop of blood on to the face of the downed bum before walking down the alley the way Amy had come down, muttering and cursing about how disgusting the blood he had just drank and then vomited was.

The healer looked to her left, seeing the light of Brockton Bay General and the entrance to the ER, then to her right down the dim alley and to what could only be described as a very strange cape with vampiric abilities.

Her decision came surprisingly easily

She rose to her feet and caught up to the man, grabbing one of his arms as she practically lunged and cursing both her poor cardio and her smoking. Whatever words she planned to say stopped in her throat when her hand grabbed his.

Dead.

That was what her power was telling her.

The man who had saved her, moved faster than what was possible, the man who otherwise looked completely normal.

Was dead.

No organ function whatsoever, the only thing that seemed to be close to “alive” was the strange substance in his veins. Despite the similarity, it was most certainly not human blood. Then there was the matter of the man’s brain, despite brains being a hard line she refused to cross she let her power touch the dead thing and found it completely dead and, even more surprising, without either Corona.

Her thoughts became frantic, her eyes grew wide with fear, trying to justify the paradox before her. A Man who by all amounts seemed to be alive and well even warm to the touch and had a semblance of a pulse had absolutely no living tissue within him.

The man raised an eyebrow and ran his free hand through his black hair, while his mouth turning up into a bemused smile, his thoughts no longer on the rather unpleasant drink he just had.

“You uh, gonna let my arm go kid?” He asked politely.

Amy’s mind was locked into a circular loop, trying to justify or reconcile how a man could look alive even taking breaths but still be very much dead. Which meant that the man she was hanging on to could freely poke her cheek and nose while asking her if she was ok.

Seeing that she wouldn’t be letting go, the man pried her fingers off with just enough force to do so without breaking off her fingers with that strange strength he had giving Amy a look at the blood-like substance quickly flowing into his hands and doing _something_ that gave him his enhanced strength.

“Sorry kid, but I gotta find my car right now.” He said apologetically and with a friendly chuckle “Hope I don’t have a ticket or got booted…”

Before he could turn away, Amy looked in to his eyes and asked

“What the fuck are you?” the fear and shock present in her voice

The man’s smile left him replaced by a somewhat surprised but still amused pout before returning with a wide grin showing off his teeth, and the fanged canines among them.

“Just your friendly neighborhood vampire, kiddo!” he said truthfully and transparently.

“Bullshit.” Was all Amy could say, the fear and shock that gripped her replaced with a desire for answers

The supposed vampire simply gave a friendly laugh and a pat on the shoulder before waving goodbye and continuing his car quest, Amy not far behind and asking him several questions after checking the downed bum and finding him only slightly anemic and high on some new drug she didn’t have the time or focus to figure out quite yet.

“Where did you come from?” she stared

“California originally, but if you were asking about where in the alley I was at the bottom of a surprisingly clean and tidy dumpster hiding from the sun.”

“How are you able to move or speak while your muscles are not functioning in any way?” she asked

“I dunno.” He replied cheerfully and unhelpfully

“Why did your bite make that guy with the knife look like he was having an orgasm?” she asked, this time with the bite of irritation in her words

“No clue.” He said, his face twisting in disgust

“What the hell is in your veins, because it sure as hell is not blood.” she stated more than asked

“Its called Vitae and before you even ask, I dunno how it works.” He said, his face returning to that same friendly expression that seemed natural on his features.

Amy’s fourth question was never uttered, the supposed vampire turned around and held a hand up to stop her, between his index and middle finger was a business card.

“Listen kid, normally I’d be down to play twenty-one questions but I need to make sure the Ranchero is ok, I gotta let my landlady know I’m ok and…” He chuckled to himself and his smile grew wider, once again showing his fangs almost glistening in the half moon’s light “…quite frankly I need to catch some actually restful Z’s in my coffin tonight.”

Handing her the business card, Amy took it carefully. The main face of it read;

**Logan’s Mill Apartments**

**Guadalupe Marquez**

**Landlady**

Along with her contact information on the opposite side, which normally would have been blank, was written in a nigh illegible script;

**Johnny Whitmore**

And a phone number

“Any time within two to four hours after sunset and you can reach me at that number or address. Don’t call Lupe though, she’s my boss not my secretary.”

With that, as soon as she had met him, Johnny Whitmore walked off into the night, leaving Amy standing on that lonely street with only the dying streetlight above her head and the sparse few cars rolling down the road as company.

Soon after she would return to Brockton Bay General, going through the motions of her job-but-not-quite was rather easy when she just had to touch and slightly focus to work her power. To those that interacted with her regularly, she was no longer bitter and burnt but rather distant and determined. Many of the medical staff would call that an improvement, and the few who were genuinely concerned only grew more-so.

To her family, the reactions were a lot more mixed. Her mother Carol’s side eye looks and distrust grew along with every second of contemplation, her father Mark was more content to sit on the couch as usual trying to work up the energy to say _something_ but never quite reaching what it was, and her beloved sister Vicky? She would attempt to tease or pry, insinuate that maybe she was infatuated with some mystery man, and yet even Vicky garnered no real reaction beyond polite deflection and uttered assurances that she was indeed fine and that it was only a medical problem that she couldn’t quite understand even with her power. Despite her sister’s concern, she left it at that and pried no further.

Seven days of contemplation and her decision was finally made, on yet another break, although this one was a willing one, she stepped away from Brockton Bay General and made the call as she walked down the same alleyway shortcut, this time with the light of the full moon revealing all that would have hid in the shadows.

After three rings, her call was answered.

“Hello?” Johnny said groggily and with a yawn.

“Hey. It’s Panacea.” she says, still not quite believing that she was in fact calling a man who seemed to be a vampire.

“The fuck is that?” he replies, still groggy and voice clear with confusion

“Amy.” She said, slowly before finally adding “Dallon.”

A pregnant pause filled her phone and then quickly delivered

“Look, lady.” Johnny said, politely and evenly “I think you got the wrong number…”  
  


Before he had the chance to hang up and possibly block her number, Amy let out a rapid fire response

“The girl from a week ago? The one you saved from a mugger?” her voice becoming more frantic with every word “You drank him then freaked out about the taste?”

“Oh. Oh! Now I remember!” Wakefulness and clarity came to Johnny’s voice “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna call or not.”

“Yeah, wasn’t quite sure of it myself.” She replied with a sigh of relief “I was hoping we could meet up and you could answer my questions. Now that you’ve gotten some rest in that coffin of yours.”

Johnny let out a delighted chuckle “Yeah, it really beats sleeping in a dumpster. Yeah I can come and meet, when and where?”

Amy smiled to herself as she relayed the meetup point; an out of the way coffee house with a rather strange floor-plan that left one booth not only out of the way of the main window but was also open till midnight. She had made sure to do some research over the last few days to make sure she wouldn’t be disturbed if/when the time came for the two to meet. She had arrived first being a somewhat short walk from the alley, made sure to get that out of the way booth, and ordered a small plain and black coffee. Thirteen minutes later, Johnny Whitmore pulled up in front of the coffee house and walked in, Amy waving him over.

Too her surprise he ordered a cappuccino and a bagel for himself and began consuming both with gusto

“Dollar coins, dollar coins…” he muttered in between bites and sips “So annoying they make you wish for bills again.”

Amy’s initial plans of simply asking him her questions after a short greeting were dashed upon seeing him actually consume food and remark on the taste.

“So you can still eat?” She asked

“Uh-huh.” He replied with a mouthful of bagel

“How the hell does that work?”

Johnny shrugged before responding

“Every lick in my bloodline can do that according to my Sire.” He said, pausing to take another sip of cappuccino “Vitae can break it down even, no barfing it up at the end of the night like other Dracul do, at least the ones I’ve met anyway. Not that we get anything out of it except being able to taste it, I think it even makes us have to drink blood a little sooner too, emptying the tank I guess.”

Amy shook her head in confusion, her hood falling down and revealing her features in full to the vampire.

“You mind explaining the terms you keep using? Vitae, Sire, Lick?”

Johnny leaned back into the vinyl booth seating, taking one last sip of his drink

“Lick’s a slang term for vampire, Vitae is the vampire juice in our bodies, Sire is who turned you into a vamp, and Dracul is the type of vampire I am, with my bloodline being the long line of vampires that are starting to drift off into their own thing but are not quite there yet.”

Amy was reasonably sure that the implication that Dracula was a real vampire that this smiling jackass in front of her was related to was utterly bullshit and yet somehow she believed it. Rather than asking for confirmation, she continued on to another line of questions

“So there are other’s like you?”

Johnny sighed and winced

“I mean, I’ve met at least a couple dozen in the past.” he said, finishing off his bagel “But I haven’t seen any in a couple years, hell I may be the only vampire in the tri-state area.”

Johnny looked over the white and red robes Amy wore, and pointed to them as he asked a question of his own.

“You called yourself Panacea over the phone, what are you like one of those cosplay girls that LARP in public as their OC or something?”

Amy, taken aback by the seemingly lack of knowledge of who she was least of all in Brockton Bay, slowly replied

“I’m a cape. Panacea is my cape name. I’m a healer.”

Johnny quirked up an eyebrow

“What like a superhero? Thought you guys all wore masks and shit?”

Amy shook her head and let out a sigh before taking a sip of her now cooling coffee “Not in New Wave.”

“The fuck is New Wave?”

Amy’s brow furrowed in confusion

“You have never heard of New Wave? We’re capes that don’t bother with secret identities.”

“First off, that sounds like the dumbest idea. Second, I ain’t from around here kid, only been here about three weeks and there’s a lot I don’t know.”

Johnny held up a finger, putting a pause on the conversation to wave over the lone barista who was far more interested in the music coming from her earbuds than any part of the conversation they were having. Nonetheless, the barista seemed to have a sixth sense for customers and came by asking what she could do to be of service. Johnny simply ordered another cappuccino and thumbed out a couple five dollar bills from his wallet and telling her to toss it in the tip jar or in her back pocket, whichever worked out better for her.

In the thirty seconds it was out, Amy caught sight of what she thought was a few one dollar bills, an impossibility, sticking out of the bill pocket and even more interesting a small Polaroid photo of Johnny and a group of seven kids to teens sitting in front of a big rig truck. The group of youths were a dusky guy about the same height as Johnny’s six-foot-two with long dark hair and a hooked nose, a rather attractive blonde with delicate features, an auburn haired girl in a wheelchair, a brawny and jock looking guy with a snub nose, a short and dumpy blonde kid with a really bad haircut that he somehow made work, a guy with a beanie that was taller than long hair and shorter than the jock, and a kinda cure girl with straight brown hair, her lower half covered with a large quilt.

Johnny clenched his hand, snapping the wallet shut and getting Amy’s attention.

“My kids. Found ‘em while I was bummin’ around Wisconsin a while back.” He said simply, his voice filling with nostalgia “They got in over their heads and I couldn't just leave ‘em out to dry.”

Johnny ran a thumb over his closed wallet before pocketing it

“Got two other photos from those days I kept, let them keep the rest for a scrapbook that they started. Stuck with them up till September, this year.”

Amy saw sadness mar the nostalgia in his face and heard it creep into his voice. She had to ask.

“Why did you leave them? They seemed pretty happy in that photo.”

Johnny simply shrugged “I had my reason, ‘sides Frank, my fellow beanpole, was ready to take over and lead em properly. Shouldn’t have a dead man be their crutch anyway…”

A single crimson tear fell from Johnny’s eyes, wiping it away, he continued

“Sorry. Tangent. You have other questions about vamps right?”

Sensing a wall in that line of conversation, she returned to her many questions and got mostly unhelpful answers. Despite this, she didn’t find the conversation irritating and soon the conversation went to other topics. What he did for work, what she did in her spare time, actually getting to know another person. Despite experience telling her otherwise, Johnny was completely open, transparent, and genuine. Something she found quite refreshing, so much so that she actually answered his own questions mostly truthfully.

The night flew by, and soon the barista came by to point out the time; 11:30 PM and that she was going to close up early for the night. Johnny simply let out a friendly laugh.

“It’s OK, I gotta be somewhere soon anyway.”

He handed her a twenty this time and reiterated her tossing it in her tip jar or back pocket whichever worked better for her. The barista smiled and simply said that he would always be welcome in her cafe.

Amy followed him out the door and caught side of his car; a beat up Ford Ranchero that somehow seemed much tougher and more loved than one would expect from such an ugly car.

“Hey, you wanna lift?” Johnny asked, his arm stretched out to the passenger seat “I can give you a lift home or to work or whatever.”

Amy gave him a shake of the head and a smile

“Sure.”

The drive was quiet and short, the car’s stereo was playing some Aleph 90’s pop, and he made sure to park a bit a ways from the ER’s entrance.

As Amy got out of the car, she asked Johnny one last question her voice filled with a little hope;

“Can we hang out again sometime?”

Johnny gave her one of his winning smiles and shrugged

“Eh, why not kid? Anytime between two to four hours after sunset, remember?”

Amy nodded and turned towards the ER, listening to the old and most certainly wise for a car’s engine grow quieter as it drove off into the night.

Those that cared enough to notice would say that Amy Dallon began smiling a bit more and walking a little taller that full moon night in mid November. Even with a sudden surge of hits on gang activity from a mysterious vigilante bringing in more people for her to heal.


	21. Posts from PHO; Ancient Aliens? - The Correction and some DMs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something off the cuff that I put up on the SB/SV/QQ Threads.

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**♦ Topic: A Correction for "Mythology Exposed!"**

**In: Boards ► Conspiracy Theories ► Ancient Aliens**

**Procto the Unfortunate Tinker** (Original Poster) (Not a tinker)

Posted On Jan 9th 2011:

Alright, so my Sarah (my sister in law) said I got a lot wrong on my post, here's my corrections;

First off regarding what I said about good old Thor;

"Wields a hammer that only he can lift"

Yeah that's not the whole story.

See, Mjolnir's deal wasn't that only Thor could lift it, but that he was one of the few people who could handle it without its awesome power presumably frying them to a crisp. Hell, Thor couldn't wield it proper without a pair of gloves called Járngreipr (Iron Grippers) since the handle was shorter than it should have been due to a gadfly biting the smith who made it's eye mid creation. Fun fact the gadfly is just assumed to be Loki dicking around. Thor also had another magic item; megingjörð (Power Belt) which just doubles Thor's already awesome strength.

Let me reiterate; Thor doesn't need the belt that makes him twice as strong to use Mjolnir, he needs the gloves that let him hold on to things better to wield it. Thor's a pretty cool guy he fights giants and doesn't afraid of anything

...Thank god there isn't a downvote feature on this site because you all would no doubt smash it to Helheim for saying that old meme...

Moving on to Adonis Rhodos, yeah I got A LOT wrong on this one and was the main reason I'm even posting this on its own.

Let's start with "Adonis Rhodos is the only member of the Hellenistic pantheon to have a surname"

Yeah he isn't unique in this regard, they all have surnames or an epiteth usually involving where they're being worshiped or in what regard they're being revered (I think). Here's some examples;

Zeus Olympios would be Zeus as king of the gods of Olympus and Zeus Panhellios is his name as he is worshiped everywhere in ancient Greece, Athena Parthenos (Athena the Virgin), Aphrodite's most common epithet was Aphrodite Philommeidḗs (Aphrodite Smile-Lover) and in Sparta she was venerated as a war goddess (because all gods are war gods in Sparta) by the name of Aphrodite Areia (Aphrodite the Warlike, because Sparta).

Here's the interesting part I found out while I was researching my corrections; Adonis Rhodos is ALWAYS known as Adonis Rhodos no matter where he was worshiped. Why is that significant? Because unlike the rest of his kin, no matter where he was worshiped he is always Adonis Rhodos. Never anything else. No matter where his cults sprouted up, he was always worshiped as Adonis Rhodos. It is often debated that it was the main reason why they tried to burn down the city of Rhodes, because the worship of him was becoming a problem. Supposedly he descended from the heavens and whipped up a storm that doused the flames before they got out of control.

This is the main reason why I did this because I missed this key bit of info. While I was researching this, I dug up another thing; Donald Rhodes Jr's mother is Greek. There is only one known photo of her and that's because Don Sr. used his considerable assets to unperson her in the media. The only photo that remains is a candid photo that has her face heavily blurred by nature of the shitty camera work. There are a sizeable amount of people in this conspiracy circle that claim that this woman is Aphrodite who for some reason decided to shack up with Don Sr, Adonis Rhodos decided to incarnate within his mother's womb (again) and be reborn as Donald Rhodes Jr.

For some reason.

Personally I find that kind of stupid. Moving on

"once apon a time there was Ra, king of the gods. One day he got old as shit and is retired. He says to his son Osiris" this is wrong on so many levels. There is a story here that involves the birth of the Goddess Sekhmet and/or Bast, and Osiris is his great grandson through Osiris's Dad. Set is not Osiris' brother, but Ra's. Now his bitch fit makes more sense.

I got the emperor of japan/amaterasu connection wrong too. Grandson not son.

No further corrections (on account of not having much to go on in the first place) but I did find something interesting on the Aztec side of things;

So. The Last King (Tlatoani) of the Aztecs was a guy named Cuauhtémoc (good luck pronouning that). That is not his original name, his original name has been lost to history supposedly. He was given this name by the last priests of the religion during the lovely reign of one Hernan Cortes. See, the priests predicted Cortes' arrival and just told the people that he was in fact Quetzalcoatl when they friggin knew that he would be the downfall of the empire, and that their last Tlatoani would be known by the same name as a primordial and OLD AS SHIT god; Cuauhtémoc, his epithet (which is impossible to type correctly so you get the translation) is "Herald of The End Times, Father of the New World"

According to the diary of Cortes, he did everything in his power to try to save the Nauhat peoples. I know, "White Savior" alarm is going off right now I bet. But here's the thing, there is archeological evidence that suggests that the Aztec Empire was trying to assimilate into Spanish culture and stuff by order of the priesthood and Montezuma. They knew that they wouldn't survive as they were and only under Spanish rule and Catholicism would they continue. According to the translated texts of some recently discovered (like 1995 recent) Aztec ruins, it's because Cuauhtémoc witnesses the end of all cycles and that he knew the Spanish were coming, so when they did come the Nauhat peoples would live on even if their empire didn't.

Why would he tell them this? We do not know. Scholars have been debating that for decades.Not even the ruins found in 95 showed any answers to that.

> **(Showing page 1 of 4)**

> **►Deimos**
> 
> Replied On Jan 9th 2011:
> 
> Uhhh...
> 
> Ok. Good on you for the correction. I have learned some shit. My time was not wasted for once.
> 
> **►Morgan Sinister**
> 
> Replied On Jan 9th 2011:
> 
> Yeah that Aztec story's a trip. My nana told me that story (she's catholic but likes to tell the old Aztec Stories that her nana, and her nana's nana, and so on told)
> 
> **►Forgotten Creator**
> 
> Replied On Jan 9th 2011:
> 
> Yeah, Cortes' Diary is kind of a sad read. Throughout the whole thing he comes off as a guy who's dreading every action he's taking. Apparently he treated his Aztec wife and mixed child very well (despite portrayals in historical fiction saying otherwise) and killed a man who tried to lay hands on his baby mama. Hell he tried to write down every damn Aztec story, had people document as much as he could, but the church didn't like that and had it burned. It was only some of his own diary and some of the writings being hidden by some confidants of his that we even have them today.

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4**

> ■

**♦ Private Messages: Greg - It's Madison, ANSWER NOW!**

Specific_Protagonist: It's Madison from School, I know this is your PHO account, no you aren't subtle. I don't care what you think of the shit I do at school or what I've posted online. This is important. Something bad is going to happen at school tomorrow, and I can't stop it. I have tried. I am leaving you this zip file. If something happens to me, if I go missing. Take a copy of that to the police.

**Attached File: NUsinsofthedallonsisters1.zip (1.7 GB)**

XxVoid_CowboyxX: WOO DAMN! You are so lucky that I don't buy what you're selling. I am not beta-ing your newest bit of degeneracy Madison. Can't wait to tell the whole school! Not that they'd believe me, but hey.

Specific_Protagonist: Listen to me dammit! I know I am a collossal bitch, I know I have done some fucked shit. But what Sophia and Emma have planned is too fucking far! Take the fucking file. Read it if you want or don't, just please! If Something happens! Just give it to the fucking cops.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Even if I did believe you, why me?

Specific_Protagonist: Because you are probably the only person who would give a shit about Taylor even when you don't have the balls to stand up for her. Because they wouldn't expect me to send ANYTHING let alone evidence to you.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: You're really in over your head aren't you?

Specific_Protagonist: Just promise me you will give this to the cops if something happens.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: I promise.


	22. Bend & Break 2.3

Donnie

01/10/11

I awoke to the dulcet tones of Stevie Knicks blasting out of my stereo alarm, the digital numbers flashing 5:30 AM. Rather than slapping the snooze button, I decided to let it play and be the soundtrack to my morning routine;

  1. Bathing

  2. Grooming

  3. Wardrobe

  4. Giving my precious Pegaso watch the TLC it deserves

  5. Putting on the day’s smile




Bathing is self explanatory, a solid thirty minutes of meticulous maintenance of my majestic body. The soap and shampoo are not the luxury trash that my contemporaries in the modeling scene favor or shill, none of it feels right on my skin or in my hair. No, I preferred this peculiar homemade stuff that Nessa had recommended around the time we first met, a local salon made it and I made damn sure to buy in bulk and pay a little extra for the trouble.

Don’t judge, shit works.

Only on special occasions do I spend a particularly long time grooming myself, especially nowadays. I usually go for something simple with my hair; a sidepart, slicked back, maybe a pompadour or faux hawk if I want to go a little wild. After hair is done right, it’s on to the choice of fragrance. Today’s agenda is open and most likely will be spent with Pops now that he’s settling in and getting our new home ready, while that may not mean manual labor or lots of physical activity it would still be a good idea to go for some basic deodorant and antiperspirant.

Wardrobe is a simple choice; a sport coat and a pair of my nicer jeans. Perfect for spending time with Pops no matter the setting! Which leaves putting on the days smile, after all you’re never fully dressed without one!

By the time this is all said and done, it’s already 7 in the AM and time for breakfast, which as always is plain oatmeal and a tall glass of OJ.

Breakfast for me has always been a time of quiet reflection, Mom and Pops were usually up earlier than me and had their morning routine complete by the time I was ready and they’d often be out of the house at work or elsewhere, leaving me alone. I mean it sucked when I was younger but with Pops finally being _allowed_ to explain? Yeah, makes sense. It’s all thanks to Great Gramps, that horny bastard! Aside from being stoked about the family secret, Pops coming home, and planning my debut on the scene my thoughts were of my new…acquaintances. I hadn’t earned the privilege of calling them friend just yet.

Lily I spent the least amount of time with but she is most certainly the most interesting, still can’t believe that I actually ran in to her so soon and prior to her finding herself. To find her so genuine and open, in this city of all places made assessment rather easy;

The rising sun, finally able to feel its own warmth again

Taylor is the perfect apprentice and despite her own modesty is a quick learner and a damn fine student, I never had the chance to really think on a proper assessment for her when we had first met, but now that she’s my student?

A bird almost broken down, now finally breaking free

Walt may not wear his heart on his sleeve but he sure has his intentions clear, he was the toughest assessment out of all of em and I wasn’t certain that it was a correct one.

Stoicism wrapped tightly around cotton pretending its a cactus

I was honestly surprised that they had gone along with my idea to hang out, Walt especially, and Lily actually providing the entertainment. I mean I’m not really a fan of capeshit, Aleph or otherwise, but I do enjoy cheese. Especially when I get to dick around and talk over it without complaint, and hey my audience seemed to enjoy it. Still, with school back in session it’s gonna be a bitch to have the time to hang with them. Figures the first peers I find that aren’t vapid shitheads like that ginger broad from the totally-not-DIESEL shoot or workaholics that dedicate their social lives to family and their SO like Nessa have to go to public school. It wasn’t like I couldn’t spend time with them in study sessions, especially as much of a genius as I am, but good fucking gods above and below would that be dull.

Before I could jump further down that thought pit, Pops popped in to the parlor with his usual winning smile and relaxed demeanor. I looked up and tried to match his smile but not quite able to capture how genuine it is. Never could make a completely genuine smile anyway.

“Morning, son.” he says as he takes a seat by me. “Sleep well?”

“I guess.” I replied honestly “Still kinda jazzed from last night.”

“That movie night with your apprentice, her cowboy friend, and little miss sunshine?” Pops beamed and leaned in towards me “My son finally taking an interest in spending time with people his own age, I should check out the window for pigs flying or for your grandma to be celibate.”

I let out a small chuckle before taking the last bite of my oatmeal, savoring the blandness

“Mom still…” I started

“With Kyushu?” Pops finished “Yeah.”

I looked down into my empty bowl, trying to tamp down on the frustration growing in me. Pops put his hand on my shoulder. I’d never admit this out loud, but I still felt like little kid whenever Pops did that or hugged me. Not like in a “not being taken serious” way, but in a nostalgic way. Safety, security, warmth, comfort. That kind of shit.

“Don’t worry Donald.” He said, using my full first name. Him and Mom are the only people who get to call me Donald. “She’s doing a whole lot better then the rest of us up here, that’s for sure.”

“If you say so…” I grumbled out

“On to more down to earth topics then.” Pops let go of my shoulder and leaned back into his chair “You got anything planned today?”

“Not really.”  
  


“Wanna come with your dear old dad to work? Ride along and see what you’ll be doing once you graduate?”

You would think that I, being a rather wealthy and drop dead gorgeous dude, would decline. You’d be dead fucking wrong.

“Really!?” I shot out of my seat like a rocket and I didn’t have to fake my smile this time

Pops chuckled and got up, I’ve been told that I look like my dad one for one barring two things; my hair color which I got from Mom, and my height which I got from mom’s side of the family. I mean five seven is not short for a guy, but Jesus friggin Christo my dad’s almost six foot!

“Yeah, I only have two meetings today; one with Medhall and one with the dock union we’re sourcing for that waterfront restoration project.” He pulled me in for a one armed hug that I returned “Figured Max will be off his game when I got my pride and joy tagging along actually paying attention and learning something, and then we get some lunch. Afterwards is a meeting with a union boss over at the docks.”

“Pops. I would be more than honored to help you rub salt in his soon to be fresh wounds.”

Pops gave me an honest to Him pat on the back with an “Atta boy”

After that it was off to the car, Pops saw a thing on the President’s “Ground Force One” or whatever its called and got a friend of his to whip one up for him. Not that he needed it of course. Pops made sure to greet and chat up the driver, didn’t catch his name. We didn’t make a beeline for Medhall, Pops wanted to stop by the sort of temporary ghetto set up the transitional team were working out of in the heart of downtown, office space they were renting out was one part of a four way sandwich with an old ass clock tower as the filling. Yeah that was the most interesting thing to come out of meeting with the transitional team, Pops was brought up to speed, he called some plays, team went out to do em. Meanwhile I got glimpses of that weird clock tower.

Then it was off to Medhall, and sadly that was a bust but not busty. They had to reschedule last minute for some reason or another, Pops was a little miffed but more so at how last minute it was. Well at least it gave us more time for lunch. Sadly Pops chose some ritzy five starred fancy feast kinda joint. Personally I coulda gone for some pizza, but Pops likes these places if only for one particular reason.

Looking over this style over substance joint’s menu somehow managed to make me feel less hungry. Still, I gave Pops a sly look before I snapped my fingers and gave a good cry of “Garcon!” to summon the waiter.

“What can I get for you gentlemen this fine afternoon?” He asked in a faux upper crust New England accent.

“I’d like to order something off menu.” I said, closing the menu and giving the poor sap an aloof and indifferent look, relishing the frustration and fear building in the guy’s expressions “How about a good old American staple; get me a grilled cheese and a tallboy of coke.”

The waiter tried to hide his distressed gulp before asking me on what kind of bread and what kind of cheese. I told him rye and five slices of American. He looked over to Pops like he would tell me no or at least order something on the menu.

“I’ll have the same thing my son is having but with a bottle of Corona Especial instead.” is what he said instead

I love it when my father joins in on my BS. Seeing these poor bastards in these stuffy places scurry like chickens with their heads cut off is just…

...Divine

He and I both watched as the waiter walked into the kitchen and shortly after ran out with the chef shouting the most obscene list of threats ever spoken in French. Pops and I had a laugh. Took the guy forty five minutes to get back with the ingredients looking like he had to fight off some of those Azn Bitch Boys to get em. Little while later, there was a rather tasty looking pair of grilled cheeses. The waitstaff were huddled near who I assumed to be the maître d' or the manager.

“Thank you.” Pops said to the waiter, a different one from the poor bastard they sent out “Please, stay.”

A quick glance to the huddle of waiters told me they were nervous. Pops and I took our first bites of our sandwiches.

“How is it, son?”

I chewed and savored it for a few more seconds before swallowing and wiping away the crumbs

“This is the best fucking grilled cheese I’ve had in a while.” I told the waiter as I popped the tab of the can of coke.

“I agree with my boy.” he says, handing a couple hundreds to the waiter. “Make sure that gets to the poor kid they sent as a runner.”

Aside from that bit of fuckery, lunch was rather relaxing. Once we were back in the car, Pops raised the privacy screen and asked me a question that I was simultaneously prepared and not prepared to answer.

“Well, I have no real segue into this question so I’m just going to ask you outright, son.” Pops leaned towards me conspiratorially and stage whispered “Are you still dead set on doing the superhero thing?”

“Of course, dear father.” A wave of smug assurance filled me as I relaxed in my seat by him. “If Alex can do it by accident then I can surely do just as well if not better intentionally.”

Ah yes, my dear cousin Alex. He got dragged into the scene and the family got quite pissed from what I heard, I didn’t get the chance to ask him how that happened at the family New Years shindig but he’s local and he did say that I could hit him up for tips whenever.

“Jesus, Donald.” Pops shook his head and let out a sigh “I mean, I’d be doing the same thing in your position, but are you sure you want to go out in a costume and beat up tweakers, neo nazis, and whoever that lazy wannabe dragon drags into his posse every other night?”

I faux pouted and crossed my arms, donning a totally-not-serious serious expression

“Yus!” I said before gesticulating with every subsequent word. “The blood of heroes courses within my veins like a rushing waterfall cascading down the majestic cliffs of the highest mountains as the sun rises!”

I dropped my act and gave my father the best “It’s gonna be cool, bruh” look I could muster.

“Besides, I already have my name picked out; I’m gonna be forever known as…” I paused and posed for effect “...The Levin Legend!”

Sadly trying to raise your fist to the sky in a car is liable to make you punch the roof, and yes it will hurt and make you yelp.

“Son that sounds like copyright infringement.” Pops just had to burst my bubble with that “That sounds a lot like Legend and you’re probably going to have to shorten it or change it.”

“Nonsense!” I said after nursing my fist “That has been will have to change _his_ name when I hit the scene…”

I’m hotter, my powers are radder, my style is better, and I can sing and dance.

Pops just shook his head again

“Regardless boy, you will need some extra firepower.” Pops gave me a pat on the shoulder “Soon your Birthright will be ready and you can galavant around in spandex and harrassing the local scum.”

Hah! As if I would ever be caught dead in spandex. I’m going for the street clothes costume style!

Conversation took a dip once we got to the docks. Business mode was once again activated we walked straight into the office of the de facto boss of the operation; another beanpole with glasses and dark hair! Mr. Beanpole’s sudden rise from his seat knocked over his nameplate and made him hurt his knee.

“Mr. Rhodes!” he said, trying desperately to not sound nervous.

Pops took it in stride and came up to give the man a handshake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Hebert.”

Huh. Another “Hee-bert” as opposed to “A-bear”

“This here’s my son, Donald Rhodes III.”

Oh right, Pops introducing me.

“Good to meet you Mr. Hebert.” I said, politely and without my usual “I don’t give a fuck” attitude and with my hand outstretched. I needed my best foot forward for this. “Would you happen to be related to a Taylor Hebert?”

“I have a daughter named Taylor.” he said cautiously and with an even more cautious squint and a slightly tense squeeze of my hand as we shook.

“About five-six mostly leg, long black hair, glasses?” I said, trying not to do the test of strength on him

“Yes?”

“Small world! I’m her flute teacher.” I said with a smile “I’m a regular at McCullough’s and Saoirse asked me if I was willing to take on a student.”

If I could let out a sigh and not make it obvious that I was nervous I would have.

“Yeah…” Mr. Hebert let go of my hand and smiled fondly with a hint of old melancholy. “…she’s been practicing every night. Her mom would be proud.”

I put on the most friendly and sympathetic smile I could paint on

“How about you?” I ask him “You proud of her?”

Mr. Hebert’s melancholic smile left and in came a much softer and happier replacement

“Yeah. I am.”

With that, I had an assessment for him…

A man once broken, now reforged

Oh how I wish I could freely gush over my apprentice’s progress to her precious padre! But alas, this is the time of my father and hers to break metaphorical bread and I shall have to reserve the gushing and glowing gabbery for when both she and her father are together.

THE BASHFUL LOOK ON HER FACE SHALL FOREVER BE ETCHED IN TO MY MEMORY FOR IT SHALL BE CUTE!

Anywho…

Pops gently nudged the conversation back off the tangent I had caused and continued on with their business, which I only half-heartedly listened to. Mr. Hebert and Pops signed the deal contract, we got a tour and quick introduction with all the other jefes of the operation, staggered back to the office. I don’t know if this is a me being so young thing, but I don’t think I’ll be all that big into this side of the family biz. Eh, thoughts for later.

Of course, something just had to go wrong.

As soon as we got back in to the office, Mr. Hebert’s secretary came outside looking like she had just seen cousin T.

“Danny…” The woman said “…Taylor is in the hospital.”

That’s when things actually got a little blurry. My apprentice was hurt, my first apprentice, an apprentice that I hope would grant me the honor of being able to call her friend, was hurt. The only thing that I know for certain was that Pops got us all in our car and had the driver rush us to the hospital. We were greeted by Saoirse, Finn, and to my honest surprise Lily and her mom.

Mr. Hebert asked them what they were doing there and Saoirse told us that Walt got hospitalized too, Lily and her mom were at McCullough’s and they drove Finn and Saoirse over here when they got the call. A nurse or something came by and told us Taylor was in surgery, Walt got put in a hospital room and would probably be cleared in a couple hours, we were shown where the OR waiting room was and she pointed out that Walt’s room was right around the corner. Lucky us I guess. Finn and Pops stayed with Mr. Hebert while the rest of us went to go visit the cowboy. We didn’t have to go all that far, Walt was shoving his way past nurses with his chest all bound in bandages and gauze.   
  


Saoirse ran up and gave him a hug, Walt winced in pain but didn’t make any sound.

“I’m fine grandma.” he was trying to hide that he was still in painkiller

I tried to get my head back into the game, maybe lighten the mood a bit

“What they run out of pain pills or something, cowboy?”

Lily socked me in the arm for that and damn did it hurt

“Not the time.” Her voice was in full “don’t fuck around” mode

“I refused the anesthesia and painkillers they wanted to use, I don’t need em.” Walt said with a smirk

“Sure, you macho bastard, why else would you be doing your damnedest trying to hide the fact that you are in a lot of pain?” Is what I would say if I wasn’t so out of it.

“Either way, any word on Taylor?” he said, the smirk leaving his mug

“Still in the OR.” Saoirse said, her face filled with worry “What happened to you two?”

Walt told us about how Taylor got shoved into a locker filled with some bio waste and was stuck in there for hours, while he got jumped in the bathroom and got knocked unconscious. Saoirse made some sort of comment about how she knew sending him to “that school” was a bad idea, whichever one that was, and Lily’s Mom was trying to tell her it wasn’t her fault.

What the fuck kind of shithole lets a pair of students just get attacked and then let go missing on their own damn campus?

Lily’s eyes went wide and then she had the look of someone trying not to punch someone out, I was getting there myself. Afterwards Lily’s mom lead Saoirse back to the waiting room while we stayed in the hall, Walt wanted to say something away from the adult’s ears.

“I think I know someone who was involved.”

Lily and I looked to Walt

“What do you mean?” I urged him to elaborate

“On the eighth, when I was getting sandwiches. I ran into a girl, she was attacked and I helped her out. She told me that she deserved it because of some thing her and some friends were doing to a girl at their school. She told me the latest ‘prank’ they had planned was too fucked up, a prank involving a locker stuffed with biological waste.”

Lily caught on and said something faster than me “Like what happened to Taylor.” she said, connecting the dots. Walt nodded and continued on.

“She used aliases for everyone involved, even the girl they were ‘pranking’ had one. She was distraught and kept saying she didn’t know what to do, I just snapped at her and told her to confess. If it was the same girl, then I guess she simply decided to let it happen to save her own worthless skin.”

“Makes sense I guess…” was all I could say, I couldn’t think straight.

“Wait.” Lily interjected “Walt you said that it was this girl and some friends, you also said that this girl was guilty right?”

“Yes?” Walt crossed his arms over his chest, gently “Not guilty enough to confess it seems.”

“That’s the thing. What if it wasn’t that she didn’t, but she couldn’t?”

I wasn’t quite following her line of thought so I asked “What do you mean Lily?”

“If her friends were psycho enough to shove someone into a glorified iron maiden, what if one of them found out that this mystery girl with a guilty conscience was going to snitch on all of them and they did something to her?

Well, truth is stranger than fiction

“Still…” Before Walt could finish his thought, a pair of Brockton Bay’s Finest Fuckups rolled up

“Walter Connolly?” One of them asked

Walt nodded his head at the officer “There an issue officer?”

“You’re under arrest.”  
  
I’m sorry

“What!?” I was fucking pissed. “On what grounds?”  


“Assaulting his teacher.” The cop replied

I heard a bunch of footsteps behind me, Saoirse’s voice crying out in shock. I was about to get in that fucking cop’s fucking fuckup face, but Lily’s arm across my chest stopped me. I looked down towards her and she shook her head at me. Walt could barely hide how pissed he was but somehow he managed to not take a swing at the cops trying to arrest him.  Then he said something that I never expected to hear anyone say in this town;

“I’ll come quietly.”

Saoirse became a little frantic, Finn was trying to chew out the cops, taking down their badge numbers, Lily’s mom was swearing up a storm in Japanese. Walt just offered up his wrists as the cops read him his rights.

“Don’t say a damn thing to ‘em.” I told him “We’re getting you a lawyer!”

I meant me when I said we. Even if Pops tried to stop me from using the family money I still had enough stashed away to get him a decent one. He just nodded and let the cops walk him into the hospital and off to a cage. Two people I’ve grown fond of, one is fighting for her life because of some psycho bitches and the other is being dragged off to be thrown in a cage. I was getting progressively angrier by the minute and I neeeded out. 

“I need to get some air.” I told everyone, Lily tried stopping me from hitting the stairs but I guess the look on my face said it all. She let me go, her features looking as upset as me. 

I was trying desperately not to lash out at the wall or any of the staff I passed as I walked down to the first floor. Once I got there I walked out the front door, felt more like I was shambling then walking to be honest.  I wandered around the outside, finding a free bench to sit on. Trying to sort through all the stormy emotions and thoughts buzzing around my dome while I stared at the ground. Eventually, a pair of running shoes on some track suit girl broke my train of thought.

“You ok?” The voice that asked me that stupid question sounded utterly alien from such a harsh voice with a hint of bitch. I looked up to see the person I was about to yell at’s face. Brown eyed black chick with long straight black hair. She had a look of concern that seemed faker than most of my smiles and more plastic than a Barbie. Like someone who had never shown concern to another person before and was trying to mimic it

“Some people I know got put in the hospital.” I wasn’t fucking around and didn’t bother hiding how pissed I was “One of them got hauled off by the cops just as he gets all patched up and the other is in surgery. How the fuck do you think I feel.”

“Oh.” Was all she said, I think she told me her name too but I wasn’t listening.

I just tuned her out as she kept yapping and yapping away, eventually I snapped at her and said

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now and I won’t be for a while, could you just leave me alone?”

Tracksuit girl had this weird look on her face that I couldn’t quite place

“When would you be in the mood?”

Something about that tone she had didn’t sit right with me either, but I was too angry to notice at the time

“When the psycho that put my friend in the ER gets whats coming to her.” 

Even said sarcastically, I didn’t like it.  Still didn't’ earn either of their friendship. It got quiet for a bit, tracksuit girl just stood there for about a minute.

Then she broke that silence with a very cheerful and very creepy “OK!” 

The way she said it, just left me feeling nothing but dread.


	23. Sidestory: Super X-Mas Funtime Now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little christmas gift for you all!

Twas the night before Christmas, in good old Oh-One

Not a creature was stirring, OK maybe more than none!

Stockings hung by chimneys and entertainment centers with care  
Not knowing that this year, St. Nicholas soon would be there;

Five kids in particular all out of their beds,

All but one with thoughts of meeting Santa filling their heads

Two in Owl Creek and three in Brockton Bay

All five up and keeping that Sandman away

Soon that night all five would hear

The sound of eight thunderous hooves drawing near…

* * *

Taylor Hebert knew that she shouldn’t be hiding in her living room under a massive blanket pile, but this year she knew she had a higher chance of finally seeing Santa deliver presents. She didn’t know _why_ of course, she just _knew._ Her parents had gone off to bed a bit earlier than usual and she was able to sneak downstairs with all of her extra blankets without making too much noise. She didn’t have to wait long, sleigh-bells and beating hooves came and raised her spirits, giving her the widest grin of her life so far!

  
  


A shower of lights shaped like snowflakes emanated from somewhere above her and poured into the shape of a very tall man. With a swift shine, the light faded and was replaced with a man in a red coat and a large hat with a large red sack slung over his shoulder, from her hiding spot she could see the edges of his face and a bit of the large white beard. Taylor watched silently with wide eyes filled with wonder, trying not to make any noise as the man quietly and pulled present after present from his sack placing them with care underneath the heavily decorated Christmas tree her and her family worked so hard on. Taylor thought it was strange that Santa didn’t have the floppy hat with the puffball on the end of it, or wasn’t all that overweight but she simply chocked up the latter up to him cutting back on sweets and the former on the off chance that maybe he had more than one hat.

Soon the man finished up, rose to his feet, polished off the plate of cookies and milk that Taylor had left out for him. As the man turned around Taylor let out a small gasp finally catching a good look at the man’s face, especially the lone visible eye that turned down to gaze at her hiding spot. The man smiled warmly and held up a finger to his lips as he dissipated into that strange light he had arrived in.

The only thing that Taylor could say was a whispered out

“Wow…”

* * *

Four year old Lily Vargas waited until her family turned in for the night, being as quiet as possible. She had heard the sleigh-bells and the sound of hooves landing on her house’s roof, and she knew that it was Santa. Slowly and sneakily like the ninja that Jiji would tell her stories about, despite how young she was she had memorized every creaky floorboard and step in the house, precisely for this moment.

  
  


Inch by inch, she crept down the hall then down the steps. Her home had a proper chimney and it had stockings hanging (all of them hand sewn by her Nana) and instead of a proper pine, there was a bonsai that her mother had managed to grow to an above average size (which took quite a bit of diligence and perseverance) on a table acting as their Christmas tree, presents put around the pot of the bonsai and some of the larger wrapped gifts were under it. All was as it were when Lily was sent off to bed…

  
  


Well, except for the tall man in a red coat with fluffy white trim of course. From her place behind the living room couch, Lily smiled as she took in the man’s presence. The man was pulling festively wrapped boxes out of a large red sack and placing them all around and under the tree, humming a Christmas song to himself.

  
  


An even larger smile spread across Lily’s face as she crawled around the side of the couch, trying to get a better look at the man. She saw that his face was pale with rosy cheeks, he had a large and magnificent white beard, and on his head was a broad red hat cocked in a way that obscured his left eye. Lily knew deep in her heart who this man was, what child who knew of Christmas didn’t? Much to Lily’s confusion he was not fat, but it did make more sense for him to be skinnier if he had to slide down chimneys all night.

  
  


Still calling on the sneakiness of the ninja, she crept closer to the man and knelt beside him, his attention on the gifts he was leaving behind and unaware of the little tyke by his side.

  
  


“Hello Santa.” Lily quietly said.

  
  


The man froze in place, slowly turning his head to face her.

  
  


“Hello, Lily.” The man slowly and somewhat sheepishly said in a voice deeper than the ocean “You should not be up so late, young lady.”

  
  


Lily simply smiled, pointed up to the ceiling, and said “I heard your reindeer and sleigh bells.”

  
  


The man rose to his full height, to Lily it was as if the roof had to suck in its gut to give the man space. The man in red let out a sigh and smiled at her.

  
  


“Most people, even the good children of the World, cannot hear them.” the mans voice seemed to boom even with how quietly he spoke “To be able to hear them…”

  
  


Lily tilted her head in confusion, not quite understanding what the man meant. The man looked down at her with a wide and joyful grin.

  
  


“Neither here nor there…” The man said, reaching into his sack full of gifts and pulling out a wide rectangular box “…I believe you had written about this in your letter?”

  
  


Lily’s eyes went wide and she gasped in excitement “Is that?”

  
  


“You’ll have to wait until your parents wake and you open all your gifts.” The man chuckled and placed the box under the manicured tree. “Moments like this are best shared with family after all.”

  
  


Lily nodded her head and smiled as the man closed the drawstring of his sack and slung it over his shoulder. She ran to the man and gave him a quick hug before swiftly and quietly returning to her room. As she crept back up the stairs, she heard the bells and hooves atop the roof as they kicked off into the night, followed by the man’s booming laugh.

  
  


Lily did as she was told and snuggled herself off back to bed and slept, knowing that the morning would bring nothing but joy.

* * *

In all of Donald Rhodes III’s six years of life, never had he been more excited for Christmas. His father took him along on his business trip, his mother was able to visit for a short while, and they both told him the true story of Santa Claus. His father had let him stay up along with him by the fireplace of the penthouse hotel room they were staying in, just so they could meet the man in person. Donnie’s father had poured out two tall glasses of eggnog and he had put on an old Frank Sinatra Christmas record for the both of them to relax to as they sat on, what Donnie thought of, as the world’s most comfortable couch waiting for their future guest.

  
  


“Pops?” Donnie asked “How will Santa know to come here? We don’t actually live here.”

  
  


Donnie’s father gave him a smile and a shrug of his shoulders “No clue son. I never thought to ask.”

  
  


Despite the unsatisfying answer, Donnie did not pout or whine. That way lead to the naughty list and he didn’t want to take his chances so close to the Big Man’s arrival. He simply took another sip of the delicious eggnog and figured he’d just ask the man himself when he arrived. He wouldn’t have to wait much longer; soon he heard the chiming bells of a sleigh, thunderous hooves, and then saw a shower of strange light shaped like snowflakes pouring out past the lit fireplace forming into a tall man with a big white beard in a big red coat.

  
  


“YOU CAME!” Donnie shouted in excitement, almost spilling his eggnog as he shot to his feet.

  
  


The man in question raised a single brow from his uncovered eye, a small smile forming as he looked to Donnie’s father raising a toast to him. The man chuckled softly and tipped the brim of his wide hat in reply. Donnie zipped forward and excitedly circled the man, almost as if he was taking stock of him as he shotgunned out words a mile a minute

  
  


“Pops told me all about you and how your story got started, how the elves really are, about your sleigh, everything! He even let me stay up to meet you!”

  
  


The man just chuckled and gave a warm smile to the boy, he then turned his gaze to Donnie’s father and said “So you told him _all_ about me, eh?”

  
  


Donnie’s father took a sip of his eggnog and replied “He needed some cheering up this year.”

  
  


The man shook his head and pulled out a long wrapped box from his sack, and handed it to Donnie

  
  


“Now make sure he does not open it till at least after midnight Mr. Rhodes.” the man said sternly with a pointed finger that opened into a wave goodbye and a short bow of his head “Until next year Mr. Rhodes, young Mr. Rhodes.”

  
  


With that, the man became a shower of light and rose up out of the chimney with Donnie waving goodbye.

* * *

Owl Creek, Wyoming. “The Ass-End of Nowhere, of the Ass-End of Nowhere.” as the rather bitter Grandfather of one Walter Connolly referred to it.

  
  


While the Connolly ranch was in no way festive in any capacity there was still a lone pine in the living room right by the fireplace, albeit a bare one. There were no decorations, no presents, and it was there only for the sake of tradition that there even was a tree. Roused from his sleep by a fit of restlessness was a lone boy of five, Walter Connolly. He had come out of his room to come into the kitchen for a glass of milk and maybe a sandwich, knowing that if he had asked his Grandfather he would most likely get a stern talking to and then have to serve a glass of milk and make a sandwich for him while being sent back to bed with nothing for the trouble. The sound of sleigh-bells and hooves beating along the ground as something large touched down on the roof of his home broke his silent concentration. With that, Walt swiftly and silently made his way to a special cabinet in this wing of the Connolly home. His Grandfather forbid him from using all but one item within it, a fully charged cattle prod.

  
  


Walt put on the pair of insulated work gloves then he held the prod as if he were presenting arms in formation. He quickly took position in a small nook that would be an optimum ambush position for any intruder. As he waited, he saw a small shimmer of light around the corner, near the fireplace. He heard a man sighing and something heavy hitting the floor. Walt crept closer with his cattle prod primed and ready. He took in the intruder as he came closer; all dressed in red and with a large hat and a big white beard. Walt crept close enough to be able to swiftly jab the intruder with enough volts to drop any man alive within seconds.

  
  


Walt steeled himself and did his best impression of his Grandfather in a staredown “You got a lot of nerve breaking into my home, friend.”

  
  


The intruder merely let out a sigh and kept rifling through his sack.

  
  


“And you are up far later than you should be, Mr. Connolly.” the man said with a voice full of stern resignation “Then again, I recall your father did something similar when he was your age. Although he had a loaded gun on me rather than a cattle prod.”

  
  


Walt tried not to react to the strange intruder’s words, but curiosity got the better of him.

  
  


“You knew my father?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of longing and no longer holding the aped edge of his Grandfather

  
  


“Of course.” The man simply stated, reaching deeper into the sack

  
  


Walt shook his head and regained his composure “You need to leave before I stick you.” he said without bite.

  
  


The man shook his head, and merely muttered “Finally…” as he pulled out a box from the sack. The man left the box underneath the pine tree by that bare fireplace and turned his head a bit towards his tiny captor.

  
  


“I believe you wrote a letter asking for this?”

  
  


Walt began trembling, whether in fear or anticipation he didn’t know. “I didn’t write you any letter, creep.” he said, voice quaking a bit

  
  


“You did not write a letter to Santa Claus at school? The first letter you had ever written to him? After telling your teacher that he was not real?” the man asked

  
  


Walt wondered how he could possibly have even known that but decided to humor him.

  
  


“She said if I didn’t do the assignment I would have to tell Grandfather that I was being defiant in class.” Walt left out the fear of what new and unusual chore he would have to do alone if that were to have come to pass

  
  


“So you wrote a letter saying how you did not believe in Santa Claus and asked for something that you felt was impossible.”

  
  


The man gestured to the wrapped package with his hand before rising to his feet.

  
  


“I would not take offense to you opening it prior to midnight, Walter.” the man said with a nod of his head. “Merry Christmas.”

  
  


With that, the man became a shower of lights shaped like snowflakes and flew up the chimney leaving Walt alone with his cattle prod and that lone package under the skirt of pine needles. As he stood there staring at the package, he heard those bells and hooves once again as they soared off into the night sky. Walt did his best to ignore the strange and fantastical sight before him and merely stared at the spot the man once stood. Soon after Walt steeled himself and placed the cattle prod and gloves back into the very special cabinet at their proper place next to Grandfather’s brush rifle, then took that wrapped package back to his room. He would sit in his bed and contemplate weather or not he should open it for another hour…

* * *

The Cheyenne Indian Reservation near Owl Creek, Wyoming was not the first place someone thought of when it came to Christmas cheer. The majority of the population not being any form of Catholic or Chrisitan would do that, however this did not stop the people of the Cheyenne nation celebrating it their own way. Many still did a gift exchange, some put up Christmas trees with their own style of festive kitsch to decorate it, and many more gathered with their kin if only for an excuse to have a feast and make merry. Even if it did not look it, the Rez as the youth of the place called it held the feeling of seasonal cheer.

  
  


Well, all but one house that is.

  
  


It was the home of the Standing-Bear family. A Husband, a Wife, and a Thing.

  
  


The Husband was the head of the Cheyenne Tribal Council and a pillar of the community, or so he thought himself. He was not asleep at home with his family this night, he was off somewhere else with a bottle of gin. The Wife was an activist and a proud champion for her people, or so she thought herself. She was not tucked in bed sound asleep, she was away in her office fruitlessly trying to bury herself in all the work she had already completed hours ago.

  
  


The Pale Thing was an abomination, a stain on her family, and not in any way Cheyenne. Or so they told her. She stayed up alone with her blanket wrapped as tightly around herself trying to fight off the Wyoming winter chill. Her hands clenched tightly together, as she silently prayed that the letter she had sent would be answered tonight. She had given it to her Gramma in hopes that she could deliver it for her, her Gramma being the only person to ever show her any form of love or warmth. Still, she was worried her Father was right and that Santa didn’t deliver presents to Pale Things no matter how nice they acted. Gramma told her that her Father was wrong and that she had a name. Her Father just scowled and went off to find more of his precious fire-water.

  
  


Soon those prayers were answered by the sound of sleigh-bells and thunderous hooves stopping above her cold and dark home. Her Parents had no tree, but Gramma said that she didn’t need one to get presents. She saw a shower of lights shaped like snowflakes pouring in from the ceiling vent coalesce into a man with a big white beard in a big red coat. The man had a warm smile and a big hat cocked in a way that covered his left eye. In his hand was a shiny wrapped present, with a bow and everything!

  
  


The man left it on her bed with a smile and a tip of his hat.

  
  


“Merry Christmas, Winonah” was all he said before he flew back up the vent as that shower of light

  
  


A big smile found itself on her face as she picked up the box and quickly stuffed it in her bag, she would open it next to her Gramma when she went to visit her tomorrow. With a heart full of joy and a smile on her face, Winonah Standing-Bear drifted off to sleep.

* * *

These five children would never have known the Fates in store for them in the future, especially not on that Christmas morning but the gifts they received they would cherish always.

  
  


Taylor would get a book about heroes both mythical and mundane throughout the ages, which her mother would help her read every night after till she was ten. Filling her thoughts with tales of heroism and adventure.

  
  


Lily would find a DVD box set of Kamen Rider Kuuga, a show that would not find an official release for another half decade outside of low quality VHS bootlegs. Her parents, though surprised, eagerly watched the first two episodes right then and there, kicking off a love of tokusatsu and sowing the seeds of a dream of being able to inspire others the way that show did.

  
  


Donnie opened up that gift alongside his father to find an Ibanez Les Paul within. A guitar that even with the wealth and resources of his family they could not quite get for whatever reason. Just like Adams once did, Donnie would practice till his fingers bled and would find a deep passion for music. A few days later he would find McCullough’s Music Shoppe and Instrument Repair picking up a case for his new guitar. Years later when he would settle down in Brockton Bay, it would be his favorite place in the world.

  
  


Walt eventually opened that box, finding a matte black cattleman hat that was too small for him. He would grow into it several years later, but it did not stop him from wearing it all the while. He would wear it every chance he could since.

  
  


Winonah Standing-Bear opened it while sitting by her Gramma’s side. Within it was the necessary paperwork her Gramma would need to file to formally adopt her. Soon after the court proceedings were dealt with, and Winonah walked with her head held high for once. To celebrate, her Gramma took her to see a friend of hers and to ride his horses while her Gramma played a game of her own with the man. This would be the day that she would meet one Walter Connolly and a friendship formed from him teaching her how to ride.

  
  


Meanwhile, from his throne in Asgard, Odin smiled and knew that these five would achieve great things…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I had some free time in all the chaos and I managed to whip up this here christmas special for you guys as my gift to you. Just something to bring some christmas cheer by having Odin as Santa give people gifts...
> 
> Taylor's gift was a pain in the ass to come up with, but I figured this could serve a good origin for why she wanted to be a hero so badly and why she admired heroes so much. 
> 
> Lily's family using a bonsai as a replacement christmas tree was inspired by my recollection of a Rugrats All Growed Up episode (I think it involved the kids moving the Finster's tree over to a classmates house who had some trouble getting things for christmas, it was a long ass time ago i just thought the image of a bonsai as a christmas tree was nice. Also bonsai can get pretty damn big if the person taking care of it puts an insane amount of TLC into it 
> 
> Donnie getting an Ibanez Les Paul was originally supposed to be him getting a signed copy of Carlos Santanna's first album on vinyl but I don't think it'd have as much impact, I remember hearing a story about these lawsuit era Les Paul copies done by Ibanez being a huge hit. Why richer than most gods Adonis Rhodos not being able to find one is a thing? Maybe on Earth Aleph most of them were destroyed after the lawsuit?
> 
> Walt's section was mostly to flesh out a bit of his home life and tell a short story about how he got his hat.
> 
> This is the first time we ever see Winonah and it won't be the last. Yes she is the last member of the band, she will show up in two chapters.


	24. Bend & Break 2.4

Lily

01/11/11

I was in a tatami room, sitting in seiza for god knows how long. The shouji were slid open, giving me an unobstructed view of the palace’s grand gardens and the river of starlight that ran through it. While the garden itself was cultivated and planned, it was all done so around the river rather than the river being landscaping. Despite being able to see the countless stars of the night sky, the palace and the garden were illuminated by some strange light as if the sun were shining. Despite knowing that I have never been anywhere this beautiful in my life, it feels as though I have.

The sight is literally breathtaking, my hand goes up to my mouth trying to stifle the gasp but the sight of silken sleeves makes it come out. I look down at myself; I was wearing some fancy kimono with lots of layers. I remember Baa-chan calling it jūnihitoe, twelve layers, and nobody wore it outside of plays about the Heian period or local culture festivals. The key difference between the ones I’ve seen in museums and the one I was wearing was its color pattern; while most kimono in this style tend to have multiple colors with fairly simple patterns, the dress I was wearing only had two colors, white and red, and the top layer had an extremely intricate sunbeam pattern on it. As I looked at the dress I spotted a woman only slightly taller than me in similar clothes next to me, also in seiza.

Unlike me, the woman seemed almost comfortable in the position as if she was doing this her whole life. Given the fact that we were sitting somewhere out of an ukiyo-e print and she was wearing just as fancy a dress I was, it was a pretty safe assumption. She had a face that could easily make most dolled up cover girls weep in envy and hair as black as night that flowed almost all the way down to the floor. She didn’t wear a crown, but I knew this woman was royalty. Somehow. The woman was smiling, it was the kind of smile you put on when you’re trying to show people you’re trying to reassure people that things are OK. Her eyes told another story, it felt like there was nothing but sorrow and regret there.

“Excuse me, miss?” I said, trying to get her attention. “Are you ok?”

The woman looked me in the eye, her smile growing a bit wider but her eyes still filled with regret.

“I will be.” was all she said, turning her gaze back out to the garden and holding out her left hand towards it.

I turned to see what she was waiting for; glowing green light hopping from flower to flower towards us from far off towards the edge of the garden. With speed and grace, it landed on the woman’s open hand. I leaned towards the woman and that strange green light, and I was able to make out the silhouette of a small boy inside it. Yeah that _really_ sounds famililar. Granted, I couldn’t for the life of me say why. As I stared somewhat dumbfounded at the boy in the light, he pulled out a really fancy looking mallet from _somewhere_ that was twice his size. Before I could even react, the boy stumbled and then that mallet decided to become rather intimate with my face!

* * *

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in that garden, there was no woman or tiny boy wreathed in green light, and I wasn’t wearing some old flashy kimono. I was back in my bedroom. Wearing sweats and a tank-top as pajamas and keeping my toes warm with the fluffiest pair of socks I owned. I sat up slowly, not really phased by a dream like that since I’ve had this dream before. This was the first time there was somebody else in the dream, though. The alarm clock on my nightstand read 1:11 AM, normally I’d just try and go back to sleep with how early it was in the nightmorning but between what happened yesterday and that weird dream I just couldn’t help but be awake.

My family was rather fortunate, my parents owning a successful business in a city with a dying economy and a sky high crime rate without incident meant they could afford one of the safer and nicer neighborhoods towards the edge of the city proper. Just outside the original suburb neighborhoods near the docks, with larger houses with the same amount of bedrooms perfect for smack dab in the middle of the middle class families all from a time just before cookie-cutter homes made of crummy materials were the norm. Naturally this means the bedrooms were kinda big, even mine, of course you wouldn’t really think that if you saw it. My room was cluttered with cardboard boxes filled with props I’ve made, merch I’ve bought online, and then the desk that was the throne for my fairly beast computer set up. My walls were plastered with posters; Ultraman, Kamen Rider, Super Sentai, Metal Heroes, Gojira and a hell of a lot more covered about 90% of my wall. There were so many posters and so much clutter that I couldn’t even see the paint of the wall, pretty sure it was, like, light pink or something.

Yeah, I’m kind of a toku nerd. There’s not many toku fans in the world my age though, capes coming along kind of sucked the audience away from that, then the Endbringers put the final nails in the coffin. Everything from after the 80’s was an Aleph import. Luckily I found a few good deals on Ebisu-Bay for big boxes of old ad posters that they printed too many of or just never got around to putting up. All for the low-low price of 376.95 USD.

So expensively cheap…

Still, no amount of reminiscing on my vast collection of geekery could really make me shake off how low I felt. Taylor was still in the hospital, she had barely gotten out of surgery and the doctors were already saying she was in a coma or something and that there was a chance she wasn’t going to wake up. All of that, hearing about how they found her, seeing Walt getting dragged off in handcuffs, all of it painted a pretty dire picture. I mean, I know I’ve only known Taylor and Walt for about a week and all but I felt like we had a thing going, a possibly maybe becoming friends thing. I don’t really have any to be honest. I’ve never really been any good at making friends, I mean I’m on good terms with a lot of my classmates but I don’t hang out with any of them, and no matter how I tried it just never really got anywhere beyond a cordial acquaintance-ship. Then I met Taylor, and I felt like it was the start of a real genuine friendship. I mean, it sounds really sappy when I put it in to words but I mean it. Even with Walt and Donnie it felt like, despite my god-nephew’s prickliness and Donnie’s Donnie-ness, that things were going along the same way with them.

There had to be _something_ I could do! Sitting around moping was going to get me nowhere. I reached over and grabbed the foam helmet off my nightstand. It was a costume piece I made for this Kuuga fan film I was working on, it started off as a thing I did for a school project but I just kept working on it more after I turned in the stuff I needed for the assignment.

“What do I do?” I asked the helmet, not really expecting an answer.

“You could start by not mopin’ ‘round there, kid!” and yet I got one, in perfect Japanese no less!

I looked back down at the helmet, my eyes blinking three times in surprise, and slowly said

“Kuuga?”

“Down ‘ere!”

I angled the mask out of my vision, seeing a small green light on my nigthstand. A green light with the silhouette of a boy waving at me. It was at that point I knew that it was time to go back to bed, so I scooted back in bed, lied back down, and closed my eyes.

“No more weird dreams tonight…” was my vocalized hope that this was the part of the dream I would show up to class with none of my assignments done and unable to be going to a nebulous prom with a nebulous dream boy.

I heard a small twing sound and felt a light tap on my chest, knowing full well what that mean I tried to to cocoon myself into maximum comfort even further but couldn’t quite get there as I did not have that many pillows or layers of blanket. Then came the light tap slap tap on my cheek.

“Now, now, now!” the green glowy boy said, I think he was from Kansai cause he had the accent going “Destiny’s a knockin’ and it’s got a batterin’ ram!”

I shot up as hard as I could, launching the boy in the light across my bed. He was pretty nimble, tumbling through the air like some kind of super circuis flea, and landed on one of my bedposts in a handstand. He front flipped back to his feet and gave a tiny bow.

I let out a very heavy sigh before asking “Why is there a tiny glowing green cape in my house?”

“I ain’t no Starborn, kid!” he said from his perch “Just blessedly tiny!”

I had to ask “Starborn?”

“Our word for Parahuman-” He said with a dismissing wave “-it’ll make sense later.”

Rather than try and ask him to elaborate I just cut to the chase;

“OK then, why is a blessedly tiny glowing green guy in my house?”

“Now I do believe I just said that ‘destiny is a knockin’ and somethin’ ‘bout a batterin’ ram?” Glowy Boy hopped right where my knees were. “It’s time for you to claim your Birthright.”

I rolled my eyes at him and poked him in his gut, he caught hold of my finger as it came in

“Listen, Glowy Boy. I don’t know your name and what the hell do you mean Birthright?”

Glowy boy harrumphed and took a step back

“I ain’t a boy, I’m a man! I am the great Issun-Boshi!” he said triumphantly, doing a very flamboyant and bombastic mie pose before pointing at me. “Vargas Lily, you are far more than what you seem and your Birthright is the key to realizing it!”

Ah, that solves that mystery. Glowy Boy here is a fairy tale character. I don’t know if it was the desire to be able to help Walt and Taylor in some way, but something in my gut was telling me that he was legit and that I could trust him. Not to mention, it kinda felt like I’ve. Now I know that sounds concerning, what with there being mind controlling capes out there, but this wasn’t sudden and in your face. This was like a mental version of muscle memory, that’d be the best way to put in words. Like a memory that you forgot you had until you see something that jogs it. In this case, the feeling I got from this was an “Oh you…” kind of feeling. Like interacting with a moron that grew on you.

“OK.” I said, deciding to take the plunge and see where this rabbit hole takes me “So where is this Birthright, Issun-Baka?”

Issun just laughed and hopped up to my windowsill, cocking his head outside. “Get dressed and grab your bike, it’s at an old friend’s place here in town.”

Again, red flags to most. Not to me. Still don’t know why, or why I know this isn’t some weird Master shit going on. Besides, I do Kyokushin and I’m a beast, short of running into a Cape or dudes with guns I’m pretty sure I can whup anyone’s ass. So I threw on some track pants over my sweats, put on my lucky RX shirt, and my parka. Issun decided to hop into my parka hood for the ride. Now, rather than hopping two stories down and leaving my window open, I did the far more difficult but not impossible thing of sneaking through the hallway, down the stairs then straight shot through the garage and out the side door. Despite the fact that my parents are heavy sleepers, I didn’t push my luck and made sure to avoid the creaky floorboards and steps. If this were a movie, I’d whip off the tarp over my bike and amaze my tiny partner with my bike all dramatically. Sadly this isn’t a movie and my bike was just out and about leaning up against the sound equipment my dad rents out to people in one of his side hustles.

“Nice ride.” Issun said, admiring the paint job.

I had put in quite a bit of work on my bike; toppest of the line in affordable parts, after market additions such as a pair of headlights with synced tail light, a custom made windshield, a moped conversion with a few tweaks from a gearhead friend of the family, and of course a custom paint job, all done to be evocative of the New Cyclone from the original Kamen Rider! I call it; Chibi Cyclone! It took me two years and almost all of my allowance but hot damn was it worth it! I would have had it in six months, but there was merch to be bought.

So expensively cheap…

I made sure not to knock anything over, ding my dad’s Chrysler, or disturb the recyclables as I went out the side door. I also triple checked to make sure I locked the door and I did not start the engine until I was way out of earshot of the house. From there, I went full throttle into the city while Issun called directions leading us into the heart of Asia-Town. Dumb name, I know, but it used to be Chinatown way back when, Koreans fleeing Japanese occupation came in, then the Hmong Diaspora happened, and then Leviathan happened and a bunch of Japanese refugees came in. Contrary to popular belief Asians don’t really get along with each other and for good reason, so every one of those groups kinda segregated themselves into their own little corner of this part of town, each with their own cute little nicknames. So for shorthand they just call it Asia-Town. Which meant I knew exactly where we were going now; Little Fukuoka. This is where all those Japanese refugees came in post Kyushu sinking, or at least the ones that made it all the way to the east coast. Of course, that was then and this is now. I can gun it for hours there without seeing another person, not even homeless people. Barely anybody lives here or works here anymore, most of the buildings are for sale or lease, and all of those are boarded up. Now in this town, you’d think it was because of some cape based tragedy or freak accident. You’d be pleasantly surprised.

See what a lot of people don’t really notice about Japan’s economy is that it has one of the strongest domestic markets ever; comparatively very little import, but a lot of export. Yes the export market almost completely died after Leviathan, but what grew was the domestic market and Japan’s economic self sufficiency and self reliance. There was a massive push in PSAs, policy, local movements, etc, to get Japan back on its feet. This social push, a few breakthroughs in non tinkertech robotics, medicine, energy production, things like that, led to a rekindled sense of Yamato-Gokoro. More people got married, the birthrate that was nosediving skyrocketed back to stability, the economy was better than it was during The Bubble. Loads of economists and politicians got spooked, thinking it was gonna be a second Bubble but its plateaued and became stable. Then people started heading back home, towns and ghettos like Little Fukuoka dried up and became ghost towns within weeks. All of that within the span of a decade. Some people thought it was the work of Thinkers and Tinkers behind the scenes, others thought it was going to attract another Endbringer attack in retaliation for their hubris. Well, ten years, no Endbringer or bump and dump crash into a super depression later says otherwise. My parents and I visit my mom’s side of the family every year to visit around Christmas time.

Of course that still does not explain why the ABB haven’t moved in, why the Empire haven’t burned it down, or why the Merchants haven’t tried to make this place dirty and busted on top of empty. Maybe people think it’s cursed?

Eventually, Issun finally said “We’re here.”

Issun’s directions led me down some alleyways and eventually into what looked like the entrance to some kind of shared back lot hidden by some more boarded up businesses. Somehow I knew that if I left my bike unattended here, it’d still be there when I got back, so I just put the kickstand up and left it by the gate. When I opened the gate I was greeted by a sight I never thought possible in Brockton Bay; a full size Shinto shrine and well cared for. The fence and the rooftops of the buildings around me had hidden the torii gates, and I doubt anybody who didn’t already come to the place really would know to look here. A hidden shrine in Brockton Bay, crazy.

Issun hopped out of my hoodie and bounced around until he landed on a stone lamp by the torii, taking the moment to bow towards it.

“Do you remember what to do here, kiddo?”

I just nodded yes and bowed. Issun bounded forward and I followed at a walk, making sure to walk along the left side of the stone path in front of me. As I stepped through the torii’s archway, things changed. The air became crisper, the sky became clearer, and a strange and familiar sensation that I could not for the life of me describe washed over me. I made my way to the chozuya and used the ladle, gathering the water from the water flowing down into the basin and not the basin itself, to rinse my hands, mouth, spitting the water down at my feet, and then letting the remaining water drip down the handle. I made my way to the offering box, bowed, and dropped in a five yen coin I had left from my last trip to Japan. As I walked up to the main building, the haiden, I wondered who maintained the grounds and if there were actual miko and shinshoku that ran the shrine, I also was curious to who was enshrined here. When I got to the steps of the haiden, I rung the shrine bell, feeling the sound travel to the edges of the grounds and back. I looked around in shock, looking at Issun who paid it no mind and was in the middle of his own run of the ritual. I bowed as deep as I could twice, put my hand in prayer position, clapped twice, then uttered a silent prayer for Taylor’s recovery and bowed one last time longer than the last. As soon as I rose back to standing, the doors of the haiden slowly opened on their own, showing a gentle light coming from inside along with incense filling the air.

“That’s our cue.” Issun said as he hopped inside.

When I walked inside and took off my shoes, that odd familiar feeling just grew. I followed Issun into a gathering hall, sitting on a cushion was a very beautiful Japanese woman in the prettiest kimono I had ever seen. As soon as she saw me, she broke out into a very excited smile, waved and then got up with her arms out wide. Before I could react I was being smothered by her rather large…

…tracts of land.

“It’s been so long! You’re so tiny now!” She shouted as I struggled for air “I’m so glad you’re here, you have to tell me everything you’ve been up to!”

I managed to break free and my lungs once again knew the sweet taste of air

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I said, frantically waving my arms between me and her “Lady, I have no clue who you are and you’re supposed to at least say your name before you start acting like you know somebody!”

The woman giggled and sat back down on her cushion and motioned me to do the same. “We actually have already met before.”

The woman clapped and someone dressed up as a kuroko came by with a jar of sake and three bowls to pour it in. The kuroko poured the steaming sake into all three bowls then left.

“You want some?” the woman offered as Issun rifled through his robes for something.

“No thanks, I’m kinda straight edge on account of being underage. What do you mean we met before?”

The woman loosened up her kimono a bit then downed her sake out of the bowl, some of it spilling out of the bowl and down her neck into her…

…tracts of land

The woman sighed wistfully then gave me a look that I couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for.

“I was a part of that massive rager we threw all those years ago when you were in that sulking session of yours, danced a merry jig?”

I wanted to say that I had no idea, but something came to me. Something that stopped those words from leaving my lips. Then a name found its way in my head, this woman’s name. I couldn’t stop myself from whispering it “Uzume-chan…”

This woman, was the goddess Ame-No-Uzume. The Kami of Revelry. A million thoughts danced around my head, a million memories that didn’t make sense. As I tried to make sense of it all, Uzume clapped and smiled widely, eyes dancing with excitement.

“You’re remembering!” She squealed. “I figured you would when you came here!”

I looked over to Issun, sipping from the sake bowl through a coffee stirrer and paying no mind to the excited goddess.

“What the hell is going on?” I said slowly, hoping he would answer me.

Issun stopped sipping sake and stifled a belch. “I’m gonna cut the suspense; you’re a goddess Lily.”

“I-I’m a what?” was all I could say, Uzume whistled a familiar tune. I didn’t appreciate the joke so I glared at her, like I did when she was distracting court. Another memory I shouldn’t have.

Uzume just chuckled and pointed at me “That’s the look! It’s good to see you again Amaterasu-chan!”

My old name. From before. My true name.

“I’m not a goddess, and I’m not Amaterasu.” I tried to deny it, but I knew it was true. “I’m just Lily Vargas, regular American girl.”

Uzume just scooted over to me and poked me where my heart should be. “You. Are. Amaterasu. Reborn.” every word punctuated by poke.

Issun decided now was the time to chime in.

“It was kind of a pain in the rear finding you, kid” he said after another sip

Uzume continued as Issun drank fully from his sake bowl.

“I’m not surprised that you didn’t tell everybody in Takamagahara that you were going to do this, I was surprised when I found out that Susano-oo and Kuromizuhime were the ones you _did_ tell.”

No sudden surge of memory came with that little revelation. I had to ask.

“What do you mean?”

Uzume leaned back, taking a swig of sake straight out of the jar before responding.

“Well, one day you just locked yourself into your chambers and didn’t talk to anybody. Was quite a long while before you had a servant girl bring that brother of yours and his firstborn over to speak with you in person. None of us knew what you said to them, only thing we got out of that was when Susan-oo gave the court a letter you wrote saying that you’d be indisposed until further notice. We asked them what happened in there and all that idiot brother of yours said was ‘oh just talking about the weather’ like he was being honest, and his kid just left saying that you had given her your blessing to go off and marry that Greek paramour of hers. Some time later we checked your room, door was unlocked, and there we find your body fading. We cornered your brother and he fessed up; you decided to sever yourself from your Mantle of Divinity and be reborn as a mortal.”

Uzume pointed at me and said “an American hafu named Lily Vargas.”

I didn’t deny it, or lie, or try to delude myself. I knew deep in my heart she was telling the truth. No use running from it. I just let out a sigh and asked “So what happens now?”

Uzume just smiled and said “Well now it’s time for a belated birthday gift.”

Once again, Uzume clapped and this time two kuroko appeared form a hallway carrying an antique lacquerware box, bigger than the ones I’ve seen. Issun and Uzume urged me to open it. When I did, I was greeted by two very familiar things and one new thing.

A compact mirror, a jade magatama with a beautiful inro to carry it in, and a brass belt buckle with an embossed japanese rising sun. I could feel the power inside those relics as I touched them. The magatama was carved and polished jade, gifted to me as a mark of my authority to lead the Kami, was the Yasakani no Magatama.. The compact mirror was made from a shard of the Yata no Kagami; one day it was destroyed to expel a great evil that was corrupting it. The mirror was restored by a kintsukuroi master but he forgot one of the shards mid restoration, leaving a somewhat large section of the mirror filled in with gold dust lacquer and the remaining piece being fitted into the compact in front of me tonight. Though the craftsman didn’t intend for it, the mirror would be a reminder of my failings. Failings that I don’t remember the details of, but know were my own fault and really bad. Regardless, I treasured the mirror’s restored form then and I will treasure it now and forever. Two thirds of the Imperial Regalia, the old memories and feelings made me shed a single tear.

“You alright kid?” Issun asked me, I didn’t notice when he hopped up onto the box.

“Yeah.” I told him “Mirror just brought out old memories, I guess.”

I put the compact in my pocket and did the same with the magatama after putting it inside the inro. I held up the belt buckle, not recognizing it at all.

“Whats the deal with this one?” I asked Uzume.

“Well, after we found you down here we had this one made with your curent sensibilities in mind.” she said with a friendly grin

“Put it on and do your best Takeshi Hongo impression!” Issun told me, bringing a smile to my face.

I put the belt buckle up to my waistband, feeling a sense power rush through me and feeling a belt materialize around me. Then, I started the pose; Throw your right arm at diagonally to the right, then rotate it clockwise until it’s diagonal to your left, retract it to your waist, thrust out your left arm at a diagonal to your right, then shout;

“Henshin!”

I felt armor and a helmet form around me in a flash of light, the flash didn’t blind me and the only reason I knew it happened was seeing the room get brighter for a split second. Despite feeling the full suit on me, my vision and range of motion was completely free and my actual clothes just seemed to give way to the suit without being uncomfortable or weird. I looked down to my arms and saw them covered by leather like sleeves and gloves. Uzume clapped and a pair of kuroko, probably the same pair from earlier, brought in a body length mirror for me to check myself out.  
  
The armor seemed to be based on the Ichigou suit from the Kamen Rider reboot movies. Instead of the blue and black scheme from The First or the dark green and black scheme from The Next the gloves, boots, shoulder pad cap-thingies, and chest piece were white, the stripes running down the sides of the sleeves, body, and pant legs were red. There wasn’t a red scarf, it was replace by a white fur lining kind of like a bomber jacket’s collar. Turning around to see my back, the wing like patterns were instead the Japanese rising sun. Then there was the helmet; instead of being grasshopper like it had the silhouette of a wolf’s head, ears included, in white with the eyes being red.

Issun hopped up on to my left shoulder and let out a punny wolf whistle.

“Lookin’ good…” he said while Uzume clapped excitedly

“That belt houses the Celestial Wolf Armor, a fitting raiment for battle needs to look heroic right?”

“How’s it feel kid?” Issun said to me as I stared at my reflection.

“It feels right.” was all I needed to say.

I knew instinctively that all I needed to do to power down was to simply will it away, and I did. I knew it the same way I knew that I could scry people I had a trace of with the mirror and that the magatama was a symbol of my divine providence and through it I could channel my divine essence to bring order and grant prosperity. A full fledged goddess wouldn’t need to use those relics, but being reborn as a mortal Scion meant that I would regain that kind of power with time.

“So what happens now?” I asked Uzume “What am I supposed to do with all of this?

Uzume hugged me and said “That’s up to you to decide.”

“There’s only one last thing before you can go!” Issun said from my shoulder. He pulled a small mallet on twine out of his robes and tossed it to my right hand. It was a mallet shaped phone charm. “Give that a good shake whenever you need advice from ‘lil ‘ol me! From now on, I’m your personal guide to the weird world of supernatural shit!”

With that, Issun pulled out the mallet he beaned me with in that dream, gave it a shake, and disappeared.

I may not know what I was going to do tomorrow, but I did know what I was going to do today.

“There’s someplace I have to be.” I told Uzume who just tightened her hug before letting me go and saying goodbye.

With that I walked out of the shrine, put on my shoes, then left down the middle of the path. I got back on Chibi Cyclone and gunned it to Brockton Bay General. As soon as I got there and chained up my bike, I called home on my cell until my parents answered. Needless to say they were pretty shocked to wake up to me telling them I had snuck out and gone to the hospital. They kinda figured why I was there, mom was understanding and dad said that he’d call the school and say I was out sick. They also read me the riot act and told me they were disappointed that I’d do something like this, but they said they wouldn’t punish me this time so long as I didn’t make a habit of it.

I made my way to Taylor’s hospital room, Taylor was still unconscious but she wasn’t on an oxygen mask anymore, her dad was praying. I took a step forward, Mr. Hebert hearing my foot hit the tile and looking over to me with red and tear filled eyes.

“You’re one of Taylor’s friends from the music shop…” he said “Do your parents know you’re out this late?”

“They do.” I said, trying to give him a reassuring look. “They also know I snuck out to be here.”

I put a hand on his shoulder before he could say anything.

“Go home Mr. H” I told him “Get some rest, you’ll need it when she wakes up.”

“No…” he said “I can’t leave her…”

“You need your strength, go home and get some sleep, you’ll need it for when she wakes up. I’ll watch over her until you come back.”

Mr. Hebert nodded his head before leaning over to Taylor and giving her a kiss on her forehead. I took his seat as he left and held Taylor’s hand. I felt the power of the sun within me, and hoped that I could give some of its warmth wherever Taylor was in that coma.

As her EKG beeped along, I swore;

“I’ll find who did this and I will bring them to justice, Taylor.”


	25. Bend & Break 2.5

Lily  
  
01/11/11  
  
“Lily?”  
  
I turned my head away from Taylor and to the woman who called my name. Despite not recognizing her face, I recognized her voice. My godmother, Saoirse McCullough, was standing next to a man with bright red hair and concerned eyes, he looked like a young Finn McCullough. Rather than the seasoned pair of fellow denizens of the Champion’s District, they looked like they were in the prime of their lives. Seeing as how the past day or so have been kinda hectic and weird, I wasn’t really surprised.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be in school, young lady?” asked Young Finn, looking really weird with his outdated fashion sense and newfound youth. I mean, he rocked it, don’t get me wrong but it’s kind of weird seeing someone dress like they just came off some old movie set.  
  
“I snuck out and came here. I called my parents when I parked my bike at around-” I looked over to the hospital room clock, the hands read 9:32. “-2:30ish. I had to come…”  
  
Young Finn and Young Saoirse looked concerned, same mannerisms as they had when they were old folks kinda confirmed that I’m just seeing them as they are rather than the illusion that made them look old or whatever.  
  
“Mr. Hebert was here.” I told them, letting out a sigh and slouching in the uncomfy seat some more “He looked exhausted so I told him to get some rest.”  
  
Young Saoirse moved over and took the seat to my right, Young Finn brought a chair from the corner underneath the TV and gently set it down on my left, sitting down on it. Saoirse gave me a hug and I laid my head on her shoulder, Finn gave my shoulder a firm and comforting squeeze.  
  
“Poor dear, been here for seven hours!” she said trying to hug me as tight as possible “You must be exhausted yourself.”  
  
Truth be told, I wasn’t. Three hours of sleep, haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday, my Visitation (is it really a visitation if you have to bike your way there and its technically you incarnate as a mortal reawakening your memories as a goddess or is it called something else?) and then coming here would have laid me out. I don’t even think I’d be able to force myself awake normally, even now as a Scion. I know it isn’t the mirror or magatama’s power, it’s almost instinctive but I feel like it’s the armor within the belt’s power.   
  
“I’m fine.” was all I could say, Saoirse hugged me a little tighter and Finn gave me a pat on the back.  
  
“How is she?” Saoirse asked me  
  
I explained to her what I had heard from the doctors and nurses that came through a few hours ago; her condition was stabilizing, she was healing a little faster than expected but nothing unnatural, no infections which was practically a miracle, and they may be able to take her off the breathing tube-thing soon, but since she hasn’t woke up yet they’re gonna do a CT scan some time later today or tomorrow and maybe see if they can pull that healing cape girl from New Wave over.  
  
I never bothered learning cape names, just their general power plus gimmick. I didn’t really find them interesting or intimidating when I was an unaware Scion and now that I’m what I am even less interested and even more unintimidated. Unless it’s Clockblocker (because how the hell do you not remember a name like that?) or Mouse Protector (who is a treasure and if anything were to happen to her I would use my reawakened goddess-ness to smite the monster that would dare strip the world of a shining light)  
  
“How’s Walt?” I asked after I took a moment.  
  
Finn let out a frustrated sigh “He’ll be in juvenile hall ‘till his court date tomorrow, Donnie paid for a lawyer out of his own pocket and told us that he should be released and have the charges dropped on the state’s Good Samaritan law but the juvenile prosecutor is, and I quote, a “hardass with a mean streak a mile wide and a burning hatred for children and adolescents” and is taking it to the judge.  
  
I know that my hometown is a rough and tumble place with a crime rate and amount of dirty cops and judges rivaling Chicago’s historic records but I also knew for a fact that no judge in this city would be dumb enough to let an assault and battery charge stand and waste the court’s time. Just like I knew it was the Magatama’s power helping me remember that.  
  
We sat in silence for a while, Taylor’s EKG beeping along steadily.  
  
“Relieving Daniel was a good move. We were mighty surprised when we saw his old truck in his driveway.” Finn said, breaking the silence. “Saoirse and I went to see him before we came here. He seemed to be holding up a lot better than you’d expect…”  
  
Finn trailed off and took a deep breath before getting back to it  
  
“He said that Doreen and Eric, Walt’s parent’s, had came and spoke to him in his dreams.” Finn’s eyes got a little watery, but his voice didn’t change “They told him that it wasn’t Taylor’s time, he just had to have faith…”  
  
He smiled nostalgically, Saoirse chuckled  
  
“…and then Eric told him ‘don’t forget a helluva lot of patience’ then he said Eric gave him a punch to the face and woke him up!”  
  
I was a bit confused at that and raised my hand a bit  
  
“Let’s just say that’s how we knew for sure it was our dear son-in-law talking.” Saoirse helpfully said.  
  
I lowered my hand and just nodded.  
  
“Still. I don’t know if it really was Eric and Doreen themselves or just Daniel’s own hopes, but I’m inclined to believe that dream of his.” Finn said giving me a hopeful look, one I returned with a smile. “Now you should be heading home, you are officially relieved.”`  
  
I gave him a salute and a smile, one he returned and Saoirse gave me a wave goodbye. I told Taylor goodbye as well and made my way to the elevator. When I hit the call button, the elevator was all the way to the top floor, giving me plenty of time to think about my next move. That girl that Walt mentioned could be a lead, find her and then find her accomplices. My house is within riding distance of the McCullough’s house, which is right next door to the Hebert’s. None of us talked about school during our little hang out at the music shop, but if Walt and Taylor live near me then that means they are in my school district. The district I’m in, if I remember it right, is the West Brockton Unified School District. There are five schools in the district, and of those five there are only two that will take new students year-round; Whipple High School which is underpopulated with students for some reason, and Winslow High School which is a notorious example of the worst that you can get in American education outside of Chicago and will take anybody regardless of if they even have the resources for some damn reason.  
  
If Winslow was like my school then they would have the students fill out incident reports for the school administrators to give to a resource officer or a disciplinarian or something. I know that Winslow is a shit hole but it’s not like they can just tell them to fuck off. It was better than standing around and Winslow was on the way home. Besides, I still have plenty of gas in Chibi Cyclone’s tank! The elevator opened up and I walked in, feeling like Shotaro Hidari sans the fedora or twinkish partner. Well, if Donnie was with me I guess he could be my twinkish partner but he doesn’t have the features for it, personality on the other hand…  
  
The elevator’s ding and the doors opening brought me out of my thoughts of Donnie in Phillip cosplay and how ridiculous he’d look. In walked a face that I swear I had seen before but couldn’t quite place, a face almost obscured by the hood of her white robe. Brownish hair, smattering of freckles, kind of on the thicker side of average and bringing back some memories of my past life all involving onsen trips that I was desperately trying to not think about as I didn’t need visions of the various plots and tracts of land belonging to the ladies of the court in my head right now as I am a good and pure kind of christian maiden with pure intentions and thoughts and most certainly have not read some explicit doujins of anime boys and many Kamen Riders, nor have I indulged in the unsolicited writing of fan works that have been posted on the internet to be disseminated to fellow degenerates.  
  
Nope.  
  
Most certainly not.  
  
Rather than continue down the dangerous and unproductive train of thought I turned towards the familiar girl and noticed that she was on the phone, a frantic male voice was chattering away from her phone’s speaker and I tried to subtly eavesdrop as to distract myself.  
  
“Slow down.” she said pinching the bridge of her nose “You’re up pretty damn late for you, start with why.”  
  
The voice chattered away again, slower, but still frantic  
  
“I don’t like where this conversation is going, please tell me you didn’t do something stupid.”  
  
The amount of words that the chattering seemed to correlate to did imply that mystery man did in fact do something stupid.  
  
“What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do. Johnny?” the girl ground her teeth with every word  
  
The voice screamed out words that I could easily make out as “Just come over and help me, please!” said in a manner that I could only describe as desperate and panicked.  
  
My totally accurate and in no way wishful thinking deductions have led me to believe that this girl’s boyfriend is going to be in the doghouse or on the couch for the forseeable future. Such are the trials of young love. Well whoever this girl is probably has it handled, and judging by the look on her face, about to raise some hell.  
  
“You better open the door when I get there.” The girl said with a sigh “I’m hanging up, you keep that girl stable and you better not do something crazy while I try and get a cab ride there.”  
  
The plot thickens! And now I’m thinking about thick plots again.  
  
Dammit.  
  
As soon as we hit the ground floor robe girl strutted out as she called up a cab and I headed towards the bike rack to get Chibi Cyclone and unchain it. After that I popped my phone into the cradle on my handlebars, popped in the directions to Winslow on MapQuest and was on my popping way. I tried to gun it as safely and within the rules of the road as I could, tyring to avoid a ticket, and thanked my magatama for letting me know how far I can go before I’m in lawbreaking territory.  
  
It didn’t take long, there wasn’t that much traffic and the MapQuest app always seems to know the fastest route for your vehicle, and mopeds count as bicycles. When I actually got there it was time for some recon. I circled around the campus once on my bike and parked it a bit a ways from anywhere within eyeshot of a security camera and made sure to chain it up thoroughly, this was the ghetto after all, the second time was around foot. The campus had a chain-link fence around the perimeter topped with barbed wire to discourage fence hoppers and three entrances for vehicles; the main parking lot which was occupied only by a single security guard more engrossed in his phone than patrolling or even paying attention, the rear access to the school’s really crummy football field with its own parking lot and chained up fence gates, and a side gate probably made for landscaper access or something. Of course, I did find one other entrance. While I walked around the fence, I spotted a hole cut open and covered with some bushes, I crawled through and made my way to the school’s main building.  
  
Between both times I circled the building I had only seen one car, that security guard’s, which hopefully meant that there wouldn’t be anybody inside the school at the moment like a heavy cleaning crew. At my school we had an incident involving the ag club and some fertilizer, and since it was considered bio-hazardous waste by technicality they had to call the district to get the area cordoned off and have it be thoroughly cleaned by a hazmat team. With this being ACTUAL bio-waste involved I doubt they could actually avoid calling the district before word got back to them. Which meant that if there wasn’t a crew here then either they were on their way or they were there the day of the incident. If it took hours for them to get to my school I have no doubt they would take their sweet time getting to a shitty school like Winslow. At the very least I had a naive hope that I could get in there without having to sneak by anybody wandering inside.  
  
I kept to the rear side of the building, trying to find some way inside aside from the doors, feeling that they were probably all locked. I spotted an open window, about big enough for me to just eek through and with a convenient parallel wall for me to shimmy up like a ninja and just slide through. Of course with the winter breeze I didn’t get a whif of the inside. As soon as my feet touched the floor it hit me; old blood mixed with stale piss and untended toilets. It didn’t take me long to see the source of the blood smell; blood spatter on the wall and under the sink closest to the window, pooled blood that couldn’t quite go down the tile floor’s drain and just stained the floor. There was a trail and smear that seemed like it was made by someone being dragged through it. The amount of blood everywhere was probably enough for someone to die. The footprints through the blood were a bit curious. Different styles of shoe all frantically walking over the blood and presumably dragged the guy into the stall, then there's a small set of cat paw prints going into the stall but in a manner indicating bipedal movement and gait, and then over all the previous prints are a pair of a heavy shoe, maybe a work shoe, walking out of the stall and stopping at the sink before turning and walking out the door.  
  
Unless there was another stabbing at the school, which I wasn’t going to count out just yet, then this is where Walt was attacked and that just posed a couple of questions in and of itself. First, while there wasn’t a lot of blood on the floor there was enough to say it was full on stabs and not just shallow cuts and slashes like Walt tried to play it off last night. Second, there was the cat paw prints, the ones that looked like it was a cat walking upright rather than on all fours. The first explanation that would make sense would be that Walt is a cape, that would mean that he would have had his whatever-moment inside this bathroom stall as he was being stabbed or even as he sat in the stall or have had powers previously, but that did not explain the paw prints. The second explanation is that Walt is whatever his Grandparents or his parents are. This explanation entirely hinges on whatever Finn and Saoirse are whatever Walt’s parents were and sadly none of the smattering of memories of my old life had anything to say beyond maybe being some form of Denizen, the catch all term for sapient and sentient supernatural beings that are not mindless monsters, or a Scion like me. It makes more sense then Walt being a Parahuman to be completely honest and has a chain of logic that I would like to think makes sense. Something is weird about Finn and Saoirse, therefore there was something weird about Walt’s mom and possibly father, therefore Walt has that weirdness through inheritance.  
  
With a shake of my head I got to my feet and I made sure to take photos of the paw prints plus the blood before I left the bathroom. I stepped out as stealthily as possible making sure to ease the door closed to reduce noise and kept my ear out for any noises other than mine. It seemed like I was alone in the halls of Winslow High, the only thing that I could really sense was a foul stench coming from further in to the school. I followed the smell, already having a good idea of what the source was and sure enough, it was the locker. I don’t think I could really describe it in any other way then kegare, not just for the contents but for the amount of pure evil it took to actually put someone inside it. I took photos with my phone, trying desperately not to cry or crush my phone into scrap. My instincts told me that I wouldn’t find anything in that foulness, nothing worthwhile that could be used to bring me closer to the culprits, despite that I took the photos. I needed it to remind me of the kind of evil I was going up against, the kind that I knew existed but ignored my whole life.  
  
Actually seeing the locker in person did tell me one thing at least; this was premeditated, it was personal, there was history behind it, which meant I may just have something with that incident report line. Which meant I needed to get to the administration office. I spotted a few signs showing where the main office was and followed them, still trying to be sneaky in case there was someone else inside the school with me. When I got there and tried the door, it was locked. Luckily I knew just the trick to get it open. I knelt down in front of the doorknob, gave a quiet clap, left my hands in a prayer position, and then gave a bow to it.  
  
“Pardon the intrusion, most venerable kami of the door.” I made sure to address the kami with as much respect as I could “My friend was harmed in this school and the answers I seek may be within the records held beyond you. May I come inside?”  
  
The grain of the wood shifted slightly making a pensive face and pausing to think for a few moments. The face in the wood grain softened, then nodded, and I heard the lock disengage.  
  
“Thank you kami-sama.” I said as I opened the door, giving it a pat on the frame as I passed through the threshold.  
  
As I walked into the office two thoughts popped into my head; I should probably give my bike and my phone some TLC and thank their kami, and that this office was the most disorganized office I had ever seen. It was honestly very difficult to look at and I didn’t know where to even begin. I’m not exactly tech savvy and I don’t think that a school computer’s kami would exactly be willing to parlay with someone other than the person who used it on the reg, I got lucky with the door, I didn’t need to push it. That left everything else. I honestly don’t know how much time I spent combing through each and every unlocked cabinet and drawer but it was probably forty five minutes minimum, luckily it was time well spent. I had found a good amount of incident reports with Taylor’s name going back as far as last year in really bizarre places like inside a binder marked “Loss Sheets”, under the secretary’s desk, or even in a box marked “To Be Shredded for Boiler Kindling” of all things.  
  
Taylor had quite a few girls bullying her, but the three names that came up the most were Emma B, Sophia H, and Madison C. I couldn’t find anything that could help me find out what those last initials stood for or even where to look, it was like this place was built on an indian burial ground with a floor plan that generated negative feng shui AND was cursed by a gypsy woman that was having a bad day for good measure! It was honestly a miracle that I found what I did. I know that nobody would notice a few missing incident reports, but I needed copies for myself that I could reference with Walt and Donnie when he gets his head back on straight.  
  
WHIRR~  
  
I turned the copy machine on and felt myself die a little inside with every loud noise that came out of it.  
  
KER-RUUUUUUNG~  
  
With every page copied, a loud whirring and clunking of internals chugged out.  
  
BWEEEEEM~  
  
I whipped my head back and forth between the window and the copy machine, praying that nobody walked in and nobody was inside the building.  
  
VWIM~ VWIM~  
  
Then the blasted thing finally stopped making noise and I stuffed the copies into my parka and left the originals sandwiched between some random file folders on the secretary’s desk.  
  
I didn’t want to risk exposing myself anymore than I had so I left the room, thanking the kami of the door again as I left. Sneaking my way down the halls, I heard something that made my heart beat out of my chest.  
  
A burly sounding man shouting “Hey make sure to bring the pressure washer and the gut bucket!” and the slam of a van’s sliding door.  
  
With that, I stopped sneaking and just bolted towards the school’s back door. With every step I hoped and prayed that I wasn’t about to be caught. I reached the back door and thanked every kami I could name, even myself, that the door had a regular deadbolt and not a keyhole on both sides. I undid the lock, clumsily and hastily, threw the door open and ran for the hole in the fence. I didn’t stop running until I got to my bike.  
  
I stopped, my breathing getting only a little heavy, and looked over my shoulder towards the school. The cleaning crew were all laughing and joking, nobody was chasing me and I was sure that nobody even noticed I was there. I let out a sigh and felt my jacket to make sure that the copies I made were still there, the rustle of paper telling me they were. I unchained Chibi Cyclone, thinking on what I had just done. Even if there was something in the incident reports, they wouldn’t be admissible in court, not unless she could get a cop to actually look for the originals and she doubted they would in this town. Still, it was a lead.  
  
I revved up my bike and took off towards home, hoping that Walt’s charges got dropped and that he’d be able to help this investigation and that he’d answer my questions about his attack.


	26. Chapter 26

Walt

01/12/11

The past day and a half, although a phenomenal waste of both mine and the legal apparatus of this city’s time, was rather enlightening. Mr. Rhodes had provided me with a lawyer from the law firm of Cypher, Scratch, & Morgenstern (a name that didn’t really dispel the low hanging fruit of “how many lawyers there are in hell”) that got to do very little in the whole process besides go on a tangent about how the whole legal system needed an enema. My attorney had informed me that due to the nature of the utterly asinine and draconian laws pertaining to youth offenses in light of the rise of parahuman led gangs, and thus a surge of youth offenders along with it, that a minor can be held by the police without bail until the minor’s first court appearance with zero say from their legal guardians. My attorney was rather confident that in spite of all of it I would be let off with a fine at most on account of New Hampshire’s Good Samaritan Law but I would still have to stay in a holding cell at the station until they took me to court the next day.

I was stuck in a holding cell with about four other boys my age and I didn’t care to speak or even acknowledge their existence. No, I simply sat on the bench and thought to myself while keeping still. My cellmates were frightened by something or other, I couldn’t tell what, and had huddled into the furthest corner of the cell opposite me as I focused on my thoughts. I thought on what happened to me in the bathroom, what happened to Taylor in the locker, and what I was going to do about it when I was released. Which naturally, given the way the legal system was handling my situation and the picture painted by Taylor at New Years, meant that I would have to find and pursue the culprit myself. I may not be one of the Hardy Boys but Grandfather made damn sure I knew how to pay attention. I only had two leads, one of which being a name and the other a possibly missing girl but it was better than nothing. Sadly it was the only conclusions I could come up with thinking all night in a holding cell.

Once the courthouse opened and started processing the youth offenders my cellmates and I were fast tracked their to meet our guardians and legal council. Finn and Saoirse weren’t allowed to speak to me until after the hearing and were ushered into the courtroom seating while my attorney gave me a rundown of what was to come and rant on the perversion of the legal system since The Protectorate became a government body. She didn’t really say anything pertinent to my case, just went on and on about legislation being proposed at the federal level and I did my best to tune her out. Then it came time for the hearing. My attorney didn’t even get to say a damn thing; prosecutor opened her mouth, read off the charges, the judge read through the file, proceeded to tear into the prosecutor, then dismissed the charges outright on account of the Good Samaritan Law. Lucky me that the judge seemed a decent man. After they took the cuffs off and released me back to my grandparents, my lawyer left after handing them her card and my grandparents told me that there was somebody who wanted to meet with me. They were pretty cagey about it, but I had a good feeling on who they were talking about. We stopped by the house so I could shower and get some clean clothes on rather than the uncomfortable clothes they gave me at the station.

Silent car ride later and we were at The Champion’s District making our way to the shop, Evian perched on the ledge of one of the windows comfortably.

“About time!” He purred as he stretched out “What took ya?”

“Had to shower, cat.” was my reply and Saoirse made sure to give me a playful smack upside the head for it

Evian just chuckled and rolled his eyes as best as he could before addressing Finn and Saoirse

“Doors unlocked, they used the spare key.”

Finn and Saoirse headed in first, they looked like they were hoping beyond hope that they were not being strung along and I followed behind them. Standing casually against the register counter was my father and standing in the middle of the store with a somewhat nervous expression was my mother. Father had a briefcase in one hand and was wearing mostly black; a flannel winter coat, a pair of boot cut jeans, and some old work boots. He would no doubt stick out like a sore thumb if he were to walk among the people of Brockton Bay but given recent revelations I don’t think he would care in the slightest. My mother was the opposite, wearing a forest green Brockton Bay University hoodie, jeans, some sneakers, and her long red hair in a ponytail, actually looked like she would blend in quite well in the city.

None of us said a word, the silence dragging out for what felt like hours. None of us moved, barring my father looking from Mother to Finn to Saoirse to me then back again. Father let out a sigh then gave a lazy wave and a smile.

“Finn. Saoirse. Walt. Good to see ya.” He said plainly and with an accent that you’d expect from a Wyoming country boy rather than the non accent I heard him speak with when they brought my soul to his Sanctum. “We did not entirely die.”

With such an odd choice of words said, my mother let out a sigh and began wringing her hands as she attempted to formulate a sentence. Instead of speaking she just ran up and hugged Finn and Saoirse tightly not wanting to let them go. Finn and Saoirse did the same.

Father walked around them and gave me a one armed hug

“How ya feelin’ son? Healing up nice?” he said jovially

I just nodded. My father was in front of me in the flesh and I just nodded. No words, no questions, no heartfelt embrace or tear of the eye.

Just nodded. What kind of son just nods to the father he has never seen in person? A subpar one I imagine.

Mother broke the tight embrace with her own parents, seeming to finally work up the steel to say something.

“Mom, dad I dunno how to tell you this…” she started, her voice that of a New Englander and her face growing more sheepish and nervous as she spoke. “…but I’m a goddess and my husband is a god?”

Finn just chuckled and Saoirse just had a knowing smile.

“Honey, we kind of had the idea that you were more then met the eye when we found out about Evian.” Finn said, once again embracing Mother.

Saoirse chuckled and said “Ní raibh tú caolchúiseach i ndáiríre.”

Somehow I know that’s Irish, never heard the language before in my life and never even knew there was an Irish language.

For some reason.

Mother laughed and said “Ar a laghad ní raibh tú ainm dom tar éis mé féin.”

“Either of you understand any of that?” Finn asked

Father shrugged his shoulders and I just said “No.”

Mother and Saoirse laughed then we moved to the back room. They continued their conversation in Irish on the back couch, Evian on Mother’s lap being petted, while Father, Finn, and I sat at the table. Finn and Father conversed while I listened attentively.

“What did you mean by ‘not entirely dead’ and which gods are you two supposed to be?” Finn’s question was said rather directly, I got the feeling that while he had quite the brush with the supernatural and being forever changed by it, he still had trouble believing it.

“Quite a few actually. See, a god has these things called Mantles, more or less the godly persona. There’s the main one a god has, then sometimes they make new ones either by accident or on purpose.” Father said with his feet propped up on an unclaimed chair “I’ve picked up a handful of ‘em as I wandered; The Grim Reaper, Pecos Bill, got mistaken for the devil a few times but it never really caught on. My main one is Erikaer Helson.”

“I don’t know who that is, also how do you go from being the personification of death to a whimsical cowboy story?” Finn was rather incredulous to say the least

“Eh, it’s all in the audience.” Father waved his hand as if to dispel Finn’s skepticism “I also don’t blame you for not knowing who I am, I’m a really minor Norse god after all. Really only known as Hel’s son and going out and grabbing people who try to cheat death. Hell I think I only show up in either Edda like twice.”

Finn sighed and cut straight to the point “Doreen is Titania isn’t she?”

Father tapped his nose and nodded. “Not her main Mantle, but it is one of her favorites. Dawn’s her main one, yet another minor god. She kinda became the go to girl for witches in North America by accident and she shows up as a bit part in some Celtic myths.”

“Minor gods, ok.” Finn let out a deep sigh “So if both of you are gods then why did you die?”

“Eh, went loud and murked eight of the crackhouse nine.”

Finn went pale, his eyes widening in shock. “They were in Brockton Bay?”

“Yeah, figured that’d be the reaction.” Father said with a chuckle. “They weren’t here long, obviously.”

Father leaned back into his chair, nodding over to Mother. “Hey Dory, wanna tell the story or should I?”

Mother sat straighter and cleared her throat

“I was doing some divining with Evian and found out about it. Walter was only six months old and neither of us trusted the local authorities to do anything competent, we figured if we were discreet about it we could deal with a problem and be back the next morning.”

She chuckled nervously

“Needless to say that didn’t quite happen. As soon as I found out and told Eric, we took Walter to your place Dad, got some gear then rode over to where the nine were heading.”

Finn and Saoirse both looked like they were reliving that night. I imagine it was a rough memory to have, seeing your daughter and son-in-law drop off their son and then never be seen alive again.

“Turns out they had the bright idea to offer their services to the highest bidder among The Marche, The Teeth, and The Empire. The Teeth, psychos that they were bid the highest. That’s when Eric had the bright idea of kicking down the door we were by and ‘just start blasting them’ with his trench broom.”

Father laughed, almost a cackle really, with sadistic glee

“Finn, you shoulda seen it! The Butcher went all ‘Oh shit!’ when I just unloaded on him! Seeing the bastard’s flesh rend off his bones, mm-hmm, I got a huge kick out of that! He died first and I caught his nasty ass with my death bag! Man! He was on every damn list I could think of, all those souls had different places they were heading and none of them were good lemme tell ya!”

Mother cleared her throat once more, giving a gently scolding look at Father who held his hands up and uttered an apology with a smile. When she continued, a rather fond smile graced her features

“Robbing the sight from their very eyes, turning fortune against them, seeing hardened criminals become a panicked mob running for their lives in utter terror. That’s a sight I will cherish. The Marquis had the right idea of leaving the first chance he had, The Teeth were slaughtered wholesale between the pair of us and the chaos, we didn’t manage to kill anybody from the Empire sadly. We did kill all but that slippery bastard Jack Slash through great effort and he filled up the roster by the end of the year.”

Father let out a heavy sigh

“Fucker got away while we were fighting Grey Boy. He managed to catch me into a loop, but I killed it.”

Finn gave Father this odd look

“Yes, I killed the weird time loop bubble whatever he put me in. Being a death god will do that.”

Father turned to me and said “That’s a quick bit of advice for you, the stuff you have divine purview over can be used even in esoteric ways like literally killing a time loop.”

I gave a quick nod and committed that to memory.

“On our way home we were stopped by some familiar faces, Valkyries for me, the whole damn Wild hunt for her.”

“No ifs ands or buts.” Mother added “Felt like I was eight again.”

Saoirse lit up, remembering something “Ah, at Bachman’s!”

Mother rubbed her neck nervously “Yup, didn’t wanna leave and it was time to go. Just booted our souls from our mortal bodies and then dragged us off to Asgard and Tír na nÓg respectively. Lugh wanted to have words with me.”

“Allfather, the real one that is not the dumbass down here, got chewed out. ‘You almost broke the damn rules Erikaer, they had another fifteen years Erikaer, why are you acting so smug Erikaer, go back to Helheim and stay there until you’ve learned your lesson Erikaer’ damn was he pissed.”

Mother smiled smugly “Lord Lugh was more understanding, however he did bar me from making any personal visits for a while. He did allow me to weave the mists into Walter for his protection and to leave instructions to have Walt sent to Wyoming with Lucian. And before you ask mom, I did that because Walt would have been far safer out there in the sticks and Lucian, for all of his flaws, would have prepared him for his future far better if socially stunted.”

I am not socially stunted. I just don’t enjoy speaking to people very often.

“Another fifteen years for what?” Asked Finn, Father was the one to perk up and answer

“Eh, the gods all got together in a big ass conclave and we gave humanity from January 1st 1981 to January 1st 2011 to stop…” Father trailed off “… _something_ from happening. I’m gonna be honest I wasn’t really listenin’ and Dory refused to explained what got everyone so riled up in the Overworld and why we were gonna stop maintaining the Mists. Why is that Dory?”

Mother smiled mischievously and simply said “Spoilers, babe.”

Father gestured to her and said “See what I mean?” while Evian had a look of shock on his face and said something to the effect of “Wait they just stopped maintaining the Mists?”

“Which brings us to the other reason we’re here.” Mother said, once again clearing her throat “While we aren’t banned from visiting the world from time to time we can’t stay for too long, lest they drag us back again. We came here to grant Walt his Birthright.”

Mother got up from the couch, Evian in her arms, walked over to me and then set him down on my lap.

“First part of it; Evian. He will be your guide into the ways of magic and help you with the Encyclopedia Fabula.”

“Yo.” Evian smiled toothily and smugly, his earlier shock gone.

I glared bullets into him, silently lamenting that I was now cursed to have an overly talkative Bostonian cat as my magic teacher.

“The stuff in the briefcase will have to wait, the next part is further in to the shopping center. If you’d all follow me?”

Finn and Saoirse seemed to have an idea of where we were being lead, Finn had a bemused look on his face while Saoirse looked slightly annoyed. Saoirse caught up with Mother and began speaking to her in Irish again so fast I couldn’t make out the specifics of what they were saying although I could tell it was probably a scolding. Finn moved closer shortly after to try and play peacemaker leaving Father and I to trail behind with Evian in my arms.

We didn’t speak as we walked. To be honest, despite all the questions I said I had during the incident at school none of them were coming to mind. In hindsight any of them just seemed childish.

“How you holdin’ up son?” he asked me, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine. My wounds are healing nicely.” I told him “Little chance of scarring according to the doctors.”

Father sighed “I mean about what happened at the ranch.”

Ah. The reason I was even sent here.

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.” was all I said on the matter.

Father just smiled and let out a chuckle. He reached into a pocket of his coat, pulled out a business card, and handed it to me. The number on the card was (000) 424-2564. Odd. 000 is not a valid are code…

“Call that number if you ever wanna chat up your old man, ok?”

Once again I just nodded and followed my mother and grandparents down an alleyway within the shopping center. The path we walked took odd turns and bends the whole way, and the light of the sun struggled to reach into the pathway with the only light really keeping the cobblestones visible being the lights of the many odd shops that dotted the alley. Eventually we arrived; two stores stacked on top of each other in a strange dip in the ground the one above ground was a tattoo parlor with a sign simply saying “Reeve’s”, and near the staircase leading to the below ground store was a smaller neon sign saying “Nuts N’ Bolts” along with a helpful neon arrow showing the way.

“Well son!” Father said giving me a clap on the shoulder. “Time to get some ink.”

“I’m sorry what?” was my reply. My eyes blinking in surprise.

“Just go with it, when it comes to your mom life gets easier and more interesting when you do.”

I let out a sigh and tried to steel myself going in. I honestly never expected to have a tattoo and I never saw the appeal, let alone as a teenager. With my parents, my now very present and living in a manner of speaking parents, and grandparents accompanying me and giving their permission.

Good god what has my life become.

Mother opened up the door to the shop, an iridescent and odorless smoke curling out from within. When we got inside, the smoke was not filling the whole place but hugging tightly to the floor and ceiling constantly shifting from one color to the next. The walls were filled with framed sheets of artwork in varying styles, the furniture throughout the store was all antique and all from different cultures. Deep within the back of the shop we heard a man with an English accent loudly berating a simpering man.

“Go see who’s at the bloody door you fucking muppet!”

Out of the back room, a rather put upon twenty-something with rather tasteful tattoos on his right arm dressed in some band shirt and jeans came out.

“Uh… d-do you h-have an appointment?” he stuttered out as he approached the front desk.

Mother smiled and cupped her hands around her mouth to yell “Hey Reeve! Your favorite apprentice and teacher is back in town for that collab!”

A commotion came from the back room and a very thin and somewhat tanned man wreathed in the same iridescent smoke that hugged the floor and ceiling. With golden eyes, extremely sharp features, pointed ears this man was clearly not human. With him closer, I could tell that the smoke was coming from glowing tattoos depicting swirling smoke around his midsection. The strange thin man’s face went from surprise to a wide jovial smile

“Well it’s about damn time!” He said.

Mother turned to address us

“This here is Reeve, this is his shop, in a previous life I was his mentor, in my life as Doreen McCullough I was his student.”

Reeve stood up straight, no longer hunched over he had a clear foot and a half taller than me and was probably at least seven feet tall. He crossed his fully sleeved in ink arms before speaking.

“Best teacher _and_ student I ever had.” Reeve lightly swatted the chest of the skittish man beside him “My current apprentice here could learn a thing or too. Pay attention.”

Reeve’s Apprentice nodded, his eyes filling with determination despite looking like he was a hairs breadth from having a panic attack. Reeve began walking towards the back room of the shop, his apprentice following along, the rest of us coming by when he called out to us to follow him. The room we were in was spacious enough for the seven of us to move around in, there was an adjustable chair that looked like it could be arranged to be a massage table in the center. Much like the front of the store, the walls were filled with framed sheets of artwork.

“So who’s the canvas?” Reeve asked looking through a rather impressive tool bench filled with various bits and bobs as well as pots of ink.

Evian decided that now would be the time to squirm and get out of my arms, Mother soon grabbed my shoulders and guided me over to the chair.

“This is my son Walter and this piece will be for him.” Mother’s voice was filled with joy and excitement.

“Placement?”

“Back.”

“Nice.” Reeve let out a whistle and smiled a bit wider then turned to his apprentice “Set the chair up for the little prince.”

The apprentice did so.

Mother went over to Reeve and took her hoodie off, she was wearing a sleeveless tank and I could see a full sleeve tattoo that seemed to change styles as it went from wrist to neck in a multitude of colors, and began discussing something with him in Scots Gaelic. I took off my top layers and once the apprentice was done I leaned over the back of the chair while I sat, resting my chin on the headrest and hanging my arms over the arm rests that were not raised and angled to facilitate my current posture.

What came after was several hours of waiting; Finn was reading a magazine, Saoirse was apparently teaching Evian how to speak Irish, Father was resting his eyes as he sat on the floor against the wall, Mother and Reeve were hard at work sketching out the stencil.

Reeve stopped to show me what he’d be using; a pair of needles that would make most people a bit nervous. He said that normally he’d use a gun for this but he didn’t want to “Flex a bit” and Saoirse took that as her cue to take Evian to the front of the store and teach him there with Finn following after. I suppose that’s one way to find out your grandmother is afraid of needles.

When the stencil was done they placed it on my back and got to work. Mother and Reeve were gloved up and moving their tools over on small wheeled trays and tables. Mother wheeled her stool over to speak to me face to face.

“This tattoo will give you great speed and fortitude, son. I’d rather bless you with immortality and invulnerability but if I did I would be provoking fate just as Frigg did when she did so with Baldur.” She whispered to me. “It won’t prevent you from being harmed, but it will make it more difficult to be harmed.”

Then they began.

I felt the needles pierce my skin and I grit my teeth a bit in response. Mother asked me to let her know if the pain got too much.

The pain of the needles was a mild annoyance in comparison to being stabbed, stung by a dream eating parasite, and being shot. The pain of the needles was almost comforting in a way, with every prick I felt power flow in to me. The rest of the session was silent and flew by quickly and I almost fell asleep a few times. Soon my mother and Reeve stopped and they told me it was done. They brought out a hand mirror and reflected the mirror my back was facing, giving me a good view of the now finished piece.

At first glance it was a tree that covered nearly my entire back. On closer inspection, the entirety of the piece was actually an extravagantly intricate Celtic knotwork. I thought I could make out some swooping runes in a few of the lighter and more visible knots of the tree. It was beautiful. On top of all that, I felt lighter and hardier then ever. Like I could run a marathon at full sprint and not get tired with no warm up, although I didn’t want to test that.

“It’s done!” Mom called out to Finn and Saoirse as she disposed of her gloves and pulled her hoodie back on. Then she took out a camera and took a few pictures of the piece.

My grandparents were rather impressed

“It looks great, honey.” Finn said with a smile “Next time you visit maybe you can give your mom some ink.”

“I would sooner burn my coat dear.” was Saoirse’s reply as she smiled at him

Reeve came over and handed a clipboard with some forms and a pen to them

“Yeah, seeing as how it’s illegal to tattoo a minor without legal guardian’s permission I need the both of you to sign these.”

Saoirse rolled her eyes and got to reading and signing the paperwork. I stood up from the chair and started putting my shirt and coat back on. To my surprise there wasn’t any soreness and I was fairly certain that I was supposed to have some kind of seal or something on the tattoo. Nobody stopped me and nobody was telling me about any hazards so I just chocked it up to magic.

Mother cleared her throat and I turned to face her.

“Normally with a Visitation you would be given a task by your patron, myself in this case. However, you’re already planning on finding the one who attacked Taylor I take it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then you will need a suitable weapon when you face them. You’ll need it to face the evils you will come across and pursue.”

“Not to mention. You’re gonna need a nice costume with some protection to go with it.” Father said walking up to me from his spot on the floor. “Make sure the feds, the jagoffs in their little gangs, and other similar undesirables don’t come after you and yours.”

Father brought up the suit case, released the clasps, then opened it. Inside were a silver belt buckle with a golden harp and a pair of crossing Irish flags behind it and a very ornate revolver.

Saoirse exhaled slowly, clearly wanting to say something in protest but not doing so. Finn just rubbed her shoulder.

“Try the buckle first, you’ll see why when you do.” said Father, gesturing to the plain belt I had on.

I switched the original plain buckle with the new one and fastened my belt.

“The belt is magical, it will allow you to change from your normal clothes to the Mantle of Midsummer. It’s enchanted armor made specifically for you.” Mother said. “It’ll be a suitable disguise and the enchantments on it will help you deal with bullets. All you need to do to don the Mantle is to say something with the intent of calling it forth.”

That sounded a bit familiar.

“Like some kind of catch phrase?” I asked her, inwardly cringing that _this_ was the question I was comfortable asking.

Father chuckled and said “You should shout ‘Drip’ when you do it, it’ll be lit! They say that nowadays right?”

Mother had the good sense to lightly elbow him in the ribs and tell him “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Father just laughed a little more.

Ah. Now I know why it seemed familiar. It reminded me of something Lily was talking about when we all were watching that show of hers. I had asked her why Kamen Riders pose and say their catchphrase. She said that it had its origins in kabuki theater, then when western media came to Japan it fused with the tropes from that media and became part of the general tropes of the medium. It was a signal to the audience that the hero was ready to face the villain and that the tide would turn.

With that, I moved away to give myself some room and faced the mirror on the wall.

I stood in profile, drawing my left arm across my chest as if drawing a pistol from a shoulder holster, aimed my hand as if were the drawn gun and took aim at my reflection with the index finger out and my thumb raised.

“Let’s ride.” I said, willing the Mantle to come out.

Vines and leaves sprouted from the belt and covered all but my eyes, my clothes shifting and a bundle forming on my head in a vague hat shape. The belt grew a holster and several rings the perfect size and shape to carry moon clips and the buckle changed designs, now depicting a rose with a pair of crossed revolvers. Just like the wax seal of the letter Evian had brought. The vines and leaves broke away in a shimmering light, leaving no debris. On my head was the cleanest and purest white cattleman I had ever laid eyes on, a forest green bandanna covered my face below my eyes, I was wearing a black long sleeve button up with a very intricate rose and thorned vine embroidery, a dark green duster, some nicer boot-cut jeans, and the nicest pair of roper’s boots I’d ever worn. All I needed to add were the spurs I had at home to make the ensemble complete.

Father let out a low whistle “Just as sharp lookin’ as his old man.”

“It does suit you” My mother clearly agreed

Finn gave me a thumbs up and Saoirse took in the outfit nodding in approval.

“What’s a cowboy without his gun?” said Father, handing me the gun by the barrel “Bullets will come later when you’re ready to bring in that psycho that hurt your friend.”

The gun in question was a Remington 1858 New Model Army, a cartridge conversion to be specific. Standard eight-inch barrel, six shot cylinder, yew grips. The frame of the gun was bronze plated with silver inlaid vine engravings on the cylinder and along the barrel were runes;

ᚲᛖᚨᛜᛚᛟᛁᚱ ᚨᛗᚨᛞᚨᚾ

I holstered the weapon and willed the Mantle away, figuring that if I had to will it forth I could will it away. Once again the vines came forth, this time undoing the change and taking the gun along with it.

“Does the gun have a name?” I asked Mother

“Fool Binder. The gun’s magic will turn any bullet in its chambers into fae shot. They won’t kill, but they will paralyze whoever they hit with intense wracking pain.”

She walked up and hugged me tight.

“When your current quest for justice is over, you will be given duties. But for now, please find the culprit. There is also one last thing to tell you; by a trick of fate that I couldn’t predict you’ve been under geas your whole life. A compulsion to face any evil in front of you.”

"I don’t need a compulsion to do that.” I said, somewhat smugly I’ll admit “Not like I’d stop doing it if it wasn’t there, now there’s just more incentive not to.”

The smile on Mother’s face went away for a second, her eyes however stayed sad.

“Goodbye son.” was all she said, giving me one last hug, Father joining in.

“Don’t worry, we’ll pop in from time to time.” Father said “We have a lot of parental bonding to catch up on.”

The both of them took a step back and waved us goodbye, disappearing in an ethereal light.

Evian hopped back up on to my shoulder and perched himself like he was a parrot on a pirate’s shoulder. I didn’t give him a glare or brush him off, didn’t want to kill the moment.

Finn put a hand on my free shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“Who wants tacos at the M&M?” He asked jovially “All these heartfelt reunions and talk of quests works up the appetite.”

“One shouldn’t start a quest on an empty stomach, dear.” Saoirse added helpfully.

“I could eat.” I told them, not worrying about the small smile on my face.

We bid our goodbyes to Reeve and his apprentice and made the short walk to the market in silence. When we got to the market Lily was waiting just outside, her face growing a determined smile when she saw me. She opened the door for Finn & Saoirse to walk inside and stopped me before I could walk in after them. She locked eyes with me and said;

“Man, have I got something to show you.”


End file.
